


Sonzai

by kaliawai512



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Angst, Family Bonding, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Soulmates, Sharing a Bed, basically Yuugi and Yami are very close, one-sided Mazaki Anzu/Mutou Yuugi (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-08-24 10:38:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 59,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8369107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaliawai512/pseuds/kaliawai512
Summary: With the Egypt trip just around the corner, all Yuugi wishes is for his other self to have a taste of normal life before he leaves. He doesn't expect to wake up in the middle of the night to find said spirit sprawled on his bedroom floor. Solid, and alive.





	1. Chapter 1

Yuugi adjusted his tie for the fifth time in the last minute, eying his reflection. He sighed. Nope. It really didn’t matter what he wore. He still looked like a primary schooler.

“Where are you going, aibou?”

His irritation faded. He tilted his head to the left as his other self appeared beside him, wearing the same dress shirt, trousers and tie Yuugi had spent so much time picking out. Only looking much better in it.

“A restaurant,” Yuugi replied, his fingers twitching with the urge to adjust his tie _one_ more time, even though he knew it wouldn’t do any good.

His other self looked them both over, brow furrowed. “You’re all dressed up.”

Yuugi hummed. “Yeah, it’s a pretty nice restaurant.”

No response. He finally gave in and loosened his tie, before nodding, as if satisfied—he wasn’t, not really—and walking toward his closet to find his dress shoes. He felt his other self follow close behind him.

“So … who are you going with?”

Yuugi didn’t turn around, focusing a little too hard on the pile of shoes he didn’t wear enough to keep downstairs. “Well, um, Anzu’s meeting me here, and then—”

A _very_ pleased chuckle from over his shoulder cut him off.

“Oh, finally going on that date?”

“Stop it!” Yuugi whined, trying and failing to force down the blush on his cheeks. “Jounouchi-kun and Honda-kun are coming, too!”

He snatched up his black shoes and turned around, head held high. His other self smirked, one eyebrow raised, arms crossed over his chest.

“But you’re walking together first. Just the two of you. And you can’t switch with me this time, I’m not falling for that trick twice.”

Yuugi silently cursed his luck. He _really_ wasn’t ever going to let that go, was he?

“I thought you had fun?” he asked, refusing to meet his other self’s eyes.

It didn’t matter, of course. He could be across the room with his back turned. His other self _always_ knew.

“I did,” came the reply. “But that was supposed to be _your_ date, aibou!”

Yuugi snickered at the memory, then bit his lip and looked up. “Actually, I was wondering… if you wanted to come out for a while tonight.”

A blink. “Aibou, we _just_ talked about this.”

Yuugi shook his head.

“Not like _that,_ I’ll walk with Anzu if you insist, but at dinner, with everyone … you should have fun.”

His other self looked at him with soft, concerned, almost confused eyes, mixed emotions trickling along the link. “They’re your friends, aibou.”

“They’re _your_ friends, too, mou hitori no boku,” Yuugi replied, holding his gaze, trying to project every bit of emotion behind it. He swallowed. “And you should … enjoy spending time with them. I mean, after we go to Egypt …”

His throat closed up. It was doing that far too much lately. He averted his gaze, even as his other self reached out to touch him—not that he could _really_ touch him, but Yuugi _knew_ when his hand was there. Before his hand could brush his shoulder, Yuugi forced his head back up, a smile on his lips that wouldn’t have fooled a half-asleep Honda-kun, let alone the spirit sharing his mind.

“It’ll be fun, and you should come out to enjoy it! Though I have to warn you, Jounouchi-kun’s been asking for a rematch. Maybe we shouldn’t bring the god cards this time, it doesn’t really seem fair to duel with them.”

His other self didn’t even raise an eyebrow. They had long passed the stage of pretending they didn’t know when something was wrong with the other. But they had also passed the stage of pushing it when the other wasn’t in the mood to talk.

“I don’t think Jounouchi-kun would let us duel without them,” his other self replied.

Yuugi chuckled, his smile a bit more genuine. “Yeah, you’re probably right … he deserves the best I can give. Or the best you can give.”

But his other self didn’t smile back.

“You should duel him, aibou. It’s been a long time since you’ve dueled for fun.”

Yuugi’s smile slipped as he heard the ticking of an imaginary clock in the back of his head. It had been there since Battle City, constantly reminding him that his time with his dearest friend would not last forever.

“You hardly ever get to duel for fun, though.” He forced the smile up again. “You … you should take advantage of it. No stakes, no ante rule, just a fun game with our friends!”

His other self’s eyes had never looked softer. Yuugi wondered if anyone else saw his eyes, without the sharp concentration that came out in duels. He wondered if his other self had even worn those eyes during his day out with Anzu, when there was no threat, only talking and games and friends. Somehow, he doubted it.

“We’ll see.”

Yuugi did not reply. He picked up the Puzzle from where he had laid it on his bed and slipped the chain around his neck. Then, with a final, uncertain glance at his reflection, he slipped out the door and into the hallway, taking the stairs two at a time back down to the shop.

“Jii-chan, I’m heading out!” he called as he slipped through the door behind the front desk.

“Be careful, Yuugi!” Jii-chan shouted back, probably from the kitchen, by the sound of it. Maybe he was going to try and cook again. Hopefully he wouldn’t set anything on fire this time … “And have fun with Anzu-chan!”

Yuugi flushed. He could _feel_ his other self smirking.

“Jii-chan, not you too!”

He got only a laugh—well, two laughs, even though his other self tried to muffle his. Shaking his head and sighing in fond exasperation, he slipped through the empty shop and out through the door to wait for Anzu to arrive.

The sun hung just over the horizon, turning the faraway buildings into silhouettes, the air surprisingly cool for mid-summer. Yuugi forced himself not to fidget with his tie again and clutched the Puzzle instead, leaning back against the outside wall of the shop and straining his ears to make sure Jii-chan wasn’t breaking anything important.

Mama had been gone for a week now. He didn’t see her very often nowadays, even if she was home, so it made little difference when she left on a trip to see her husband. Yuugi couldn’t even remember the last time his father had been home for more than a few days, and he supposed it was about time she went to visit him on his constant business trips.

She hadn’t asked if he wanted to go with her. Once upon a time, he might have wanted to, even if it meant missing school. But now the thought of spending time with his father, a man he barely knew, instead of his friends, sounded just as ridiculous as it probably was.

And without Mama around, he didn’t have to be quite so careful about his conversations with his other self. Jii-chan had known about him for a long time, and he probably wouldn’t have cared if Yuugi started talking to himself anyway.

They had also been getting a lot more take-out, ever since Yuugi realized that almost anything Jii-chan cooked turned out charred.

Life was quiet. He got up, went to school, hung out with his friends for a bit, went home, did his homework and helped out at the shop, and went to sleep. Normally, he would have welcomed the respite. Everything had been so crazy since Duelist Kingdom, and it should have been nice to just relax.

But relaxing gave him more time to think, and more time to talk about things that hurt to discuss.

He had no doubt that his other self had noticed his attempts to avoid the inevitable conversation. Yuugi didn’t ignore him, by any means—that would have been cruel, given that he was his other self’s only link to the outside world, the only person he could talk to when he wasn’t in control of the body. But he skirted around the heavy topics, maybe because there had been _so many_ heavy topics lately, and maybe because another was right ahead of them.

And though he could put it off for a while—his other self would probably let him put it off for months, even years—he couldn’t do it forever.

The clock was running out.

His other self had worked so hard for this. And Yuugi wouldn’t even think of denying him his chance to finally discover who he really was.

“Yuugi!”

Yuugi jerked his head up. His lips stretched into a smile as he saw the figure jogging toward him, one hand waving high in the air.

“Hi, Anzu!” he called back. “Ready to go?”

She stopped in front of him, her cheeks a bit red from exertion, but wearing a smile nonetheless. She had far outdone him in terms of dressing up, part of her hair pulled back into a ponytail while two thick strands framed her face, a her lacy pink skirt paired with an embroidered top and high white boots. She hadn’t dressed more than semi-formally, but she would easily outshine everyone else in the restaurant.

_He_ thought so, anyway.

His other self snickered, mentally nudging him in the ribs, and Yuugi shooed him away.

“Yep!” Anzu replied. Then she paused, brow furrowed, and tilted her head. “Are you okay? You look … bothered.”

Yuugi tensed and forced his smile to widen. “No, no, I’m fine. Come on, we’d better hurry!”

He slipped past without waiting for her reply, walking so fast it almost counted as a run.

“But Yuugi, we’re still early!” Anzu called after him.

“But if we walk really slow, we’ll be late! Let’s go!”

“Yuugi, wait up!”

He slowed down until Anzu caught up to him. She sighed in fond exasperation, smiling despite her attempts to hide it. Then, side by side, they started down the sidewalk toward the restaurant she had picked earlier that week.

The two of them chatted about nothing and everything. Classes, homework, how Kaiba-kun had almost completely stopped coming to school to run his company, the tournaments that were coming up, whether Anzu had found a new part-time job. She avoided bringing up the trip to Egypt, and Yuugi wished there was a way to thank her without actually saying it.

The sun had almost disappeared behind the horizon by the time the restaurant came into view. Yuugi grinned and picked up his pace, only half-hearing Anzu’s protests for him to slow down while she was wearing high-heeled shoes. He hadn’t eaten since lunch, and he was all too ready for the delicious meal she had promised this place would provide.

Then he caught a flash of white out of the corner of his eye, and stumbled to a stop so fast he almost tripped over his own feet. He stared across the street, toward the shops highlighted by the setting sun.

Nothing. The flash of white … the striped blue and white shirt …

He could have _sworn …_

“Yuugi?”

Anzu’s voice behind him shook him from his reverie, and he turned to face her for a moment, catching the furrow of her brow, before looking back at the other side of the street.

“I thought I saw Bakura-kun.”

“Huh? Really?” She followed his gaze, even though she surely knew as well as he did that they wouldn’t find him. She sighed. “I’ve hardly seen him at all since Battle City … he misses school a lot. I hope he’s okay.”

Yuugi nodded. They had gotten rid of that spirit, hadn’t they? The other Bakura-kun? Now Yuugi had the Millennium Ring. And without the Ring, the spirit couldn’t do anything. Bakura-kun was safe now. He probably just needed time to recover.

“Yuugi! Anzu!”

They both turned to face the front of the restaurant. Yuugi hadn’t noticed him before with the sun shining right in his path, but now he could just make out a figure standing by the doors, waving and somehow managing to look impatient even though the sun’s glare blocked his expression.

Yuugi grinned.

“Jounouchi-kun!”

“What are you two doing standing there?” Jounouchi-kun called back as Yuugi and Anzu started forward again. “Come on, Honda already got us a table!”

Anzu crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Since when are you two _early_?”

“What d’you mean, early?” he asked, his raised eyebrow much clearer now that they were closer. Though he had put on one of his best dress shirts, he had apparently forgotten to brush his hair. “You guys are late, and we’re _starving_!”

“But we’re not supposed to meet for another ten minutes!” Yuugi replied.

Jounouchi-kun stared. “You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago! You said seven!”

“We were meeting at seven- _thirty,_ Jounouchi,” Anzu said, both her eyebrows up. “I told you _three times._ ”

Yuugi knew it might have just been the sun, but he swore Jounouchi-kun’s cheeks turned bright red. He coughed.

“… oh.”

Anzu sighed, shaking her head, but Yuugi swore he saw her smile. She shrugged. “Well, at least we don’t have to wait for you. Let’s make sure they don’t start chewing on the table, Yuugi.”

Yuugi just laughed and followed them both inside.

Luckily, the waiter came to their table quickly, and Jounouchi-kun and Honda-kun agreed to split a bowl of edamame that they devoured in under a minute. Ten minutes later, their meals arrived, and as much as Jounouchi-kun had complained about wasting their money at a fancy restaurant when cheap food was just as good, he dug in almost before the waiter had set down his plate. Honda-kun called him a pig, only to seconds later begin shoveling his own food into his mouth loudly enough to draw glares from nearby tables.

Anzu put a hand to her forehead and sighed, but Yuugi just rubbed the back of his neck.

After five minutes of eating, he brought up the rumors of KaibaCorp holding another tournament soon. Jounouchi-kun insisted that this would be the time he finally beat Kaiba-kun’s sorry backside, and glared at Honda-kun when he asked if Shizuka-chan would be coming to watch him duel. They discussed new cards that had been released and complained about upgrades to the Duel Disk Kaiba-kun refused to release for free, and Anzu pointed out, in the middle of politely enjoying her own udon dish, that KaibaCorp couldn’t exactly run a business if it didn’t have paying customers.

It was good food, and even better company, but somehow, Yuugi couldn’t manage to do more than paint on a smile and step in whenever they started arguing.

His friends noticed, as always, and tried to draw him into the conversation, but he always fell out again. Anzu watched him with sympathetic eyes, and after a few failed attempts, she stopped bothering him, and distracted Jounouchi-kun when he kept insisting that something was wrong with Yuugi and he wasn’t going to stop until he figured out what.

It touched him that they cared. But they couldn’t help with this, and he didn’t want to talk about it. Not yet.

Unfortunately, while Anzu could distract his two visible friends, his other self hadn’t stopped staring at him since they arrived.

He hadn’t said anything, but Yuugi could feel him at his side, watching him with soft eyes that none of their past opponents would believe belonged on such a harsh face. He felt a tinge of anxiety from across the link, the sense of helplessness that always appeared when Yuugi was upset or hurt and he just didn’t know what to do. Because protecting his aibou was his first priority, what he was best at, and if he couldn’t do that, what good was he?

That wasn’t true, of course. But Yuugi knew his other self believed it.

Five minutes after Anzu drew Jounouchi-kun’s attention away, Yuugi felt something shift in his other self’s emotions. From anxiety to … anticipation. Hope. And, of all things, amusement. He resisted it for a minute longer, just smiling at his friends’ antics, but finally he gave in and turned to where his other self hovered next to his shoulder.

There it was. That _smirk._ Paired with eyes that glinted with mischief, barely covering up his concern.

“Anzu seemed to enjoy walking with you, aibou,” his other self said, eyebrows raised. “She looked at you more than usual. I think she likes your outfit.”

Yuugi’s cheeks reddened. He glanced at Anzu out of the corner of his eye, but luckily, she was too busy scolding Jounouchi-kun for eating too fast.

“You should have worn the bracelets, though,” his other self added after a moment’s pause.

Yuugi wrinkled his nose.

_I told you, bracelets don’t suit me! And they definitely wouldn’t go with this outfit._

“Bracelets go with _everything_ if you wear them right. Especially silver,” his other self replied, smirking even wider. “Hey, tomorrow’s Saturday. We can go shopping. I’ll help you pick out some accessories that’ll have Anzu crazy for you in _no_ time.”

He winked, giving a mental nudge that Yuugi had come to associate with a gentle elbow to the ribs. His whole face burned.

“Oh, stop it already!”

Only when all three of his friends froze, mouths still open, and turned to stare at him did he realize that he had spoken out loud.

Or, to be more accurate, yelled.

He could feel stares from all around the restaurant as well—Jounouchi-kun and Honda-kun had already drawn disapproving frowns—but he ignored them, feeling his cheeks grow even redder as Anzu tilted her head in concern.

“Yuugi …?”

His other self snorted, the most undignified sound Yuugi had ever heard him make, then broke down into hysterical laughter, clutching his stomach even though Yuugi knew he couldn’t feel pain as a spirit. Yes, this was definitely the most embarrassing experience in Yuugi’s recent past. Even more than when his other self had thrown him back into the body to deal with Jounouchi-kun after the first duel of the KC Grand Prix. He clenched his fists.

“Stop laughing, mou hitori no boku!”

In a second, the confusion on his friends’ faces disappeared, replaced by varying degrees of amusement and understanding.

Jounouchi-kun looked to Yuugi’s side, as if searching for someone he knew he couldn’t see. “Is he …?”

Yuugi huffed through his nose and crossed his arms.

“Laughing it up,” he grumbled. “At least go back in the Puzzle if you’re gonna be that loud!”

His other self only laughed harder.

Yuugi didn’t want him to stop, though, even if it meant he was laughing at him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had really heard him laugh. Not a chuckle accompanied by a smirk in the midst of a duel, when he had a way to turn the tables or knew something his opponent didn’t. Just laughing.

If Yuugi could fit as much laughter in as possible before …

No. He wasn’t going to be sad. Not here. Not now. Not with their friends.

Before his other self had a chance to feel the twisting in his gut, Yuugi broke into an extra-wide grin and asked if everyone wanted to get some fried ice cream to share. All three immediately agreed.

As a bonus, no one thought to ask what his other self was laughing about.

Yuugi found himself smiling for the rest of the meal, without even trying. He let his friends distract him, let himself focus on his other self’s teasing and pretend that he would be teasing him for the rest of his life. Jounouchi-kun ate more than his share of fried ice cream, Honda-kun shouted at him for it, and it was only thanks to Anzu that they didn’t accidentally leave without paying the bill. And his other self hovered near his shoulder, watching, smiling, without saying a word.

Yes. For now, everything was fine.

Jounouchi-kun and Honda-kun waved goodbye, patting their full stomachs as they headed home, and Yuugi insisted on walking Anzu back to her house. As the loud chatter and distractions of the restaurant faded behind them, so did the temporary block on Yuugi’s thoughts. He let Anzu do most of the talking. And when they reached her front door, even though she smiled at him with more affection than she had in a long time, he could hardly bring himself to enjoy it.

He wished her a good night and looked over his shoulder three times to smile as she stood in the doorway, waving him goodbye. Only once he was out of sight did he allow his shoulders to sag, his head tilting up toward the starry sky and his fingers brushing along the familiar, cool edges of the Puzzle around his neck.

“You didn’t come out at all tonight,” he murmured, just quietly enough so that no one could hear him without him seeing them approach first.

He caught the faint outline of a figure to his left. “I told you,” his other self replied. “You should have fun, aibou.”

Yuugi huffed. “But you should have fun, too.”

He lowered his head, and his other self floated further into his line of view.

“I _do_ have fun. Watching you have fun is fun for me as well. And I’m still there. Even if they can’t see me.”

Despite his reassuring tone, Yuugi found himself biting his lip. He turned to stare at his other self, stare _through_ him at the street and buildings beyond. How could he be so content with his existence? How could he be so content with only one person in the world even aware of his presence unless he was possessing that person’s body?

“Promise me you’ll take over the next time we go out?”

His other self looked at him as if he had about two dozen things to say to that, but after a moment, all those things disappeared in a sigh. “If you insist, aibou.”

“I do.” Yuugi forced a smile onto his lips, his eyes gleaming a little in anticipation. “You’ll have fun. All four of you.”

He got no response. His other self drifted back to his side, and Yuugi continued down the street, taking the familiar turns that would lead him back to the game shop, his feet moving without conscious thought.

He wished, not for the first time, that it could be the _five_ of them.

Him and his other self. Together, side by side, with Jounouchi-kun and Honda-kun and Anzu. Just five friends, eating lunch, playing games, making jokes. No arguments over who would control the body this time. His other self had always been so careful about only taking over when there was trouble. He hardly ever got to just be … a teenager.

And that was what he was, wasn’t it? Behind his confidence, his skill, even the fact that he had been locked away for three thousand years, he couldn’t be that much older than Yuugi. He just never got the chance to act like it.

Well. If Yuugi had anything to say about it, he would get that chance. As many chances as possible. He could set up another not-date with Anzu, tell Jounouchi-kun to meet him somewhere for a duel and then switch places before his other self could protest. Ask Honda-kun if he could borrow that motorcycle again so his other self could feel what it was like to ride one.

Yuugi ran through everything he could think of that his other self might want to do, everything he took for granted, everything he should experience at least once.

Because he wouldn’t get to later.

Once they went to Egypt, once they found his lost memories, the chance would be gone.

“Aibou?”

Yuugi didn’t jump. His other self had long stopped being able to surprise him. He flashed a smile at the transparent figure at his side, shaking his head.

“I’m fine.”

His other self didn’t believe him. He lived in Yuugi’s head. He knew when he was lying. But he said nothing about it.

Yuugi looked back to the street, eyes on the lights of the game shop in the distance, left on for him even though the store had closed. He let out a long breath that was not quite a sigh.

No, his other self didn’t have much time left. And Yuugi was going to make sure he didn’t waste a second of it.

 

*

 

Something was coming.

He couldn’t see it, he couldn’t hear it, but something was coming. Grabbing at him, clutching him. No, not him. Something precious. It had it and it was taking it and he tried to hold on but he couldn’t and it was like someone was ripping his heart right out of his chest.

No. _No._ They couldn’t take him. It wasn’t time yet. He could still stay, he _had_ to stay, he belonged with Yuugi, Yuugi would help him, Yuugi would keep him safe.

Further. Further. He reached and he reached and he could hear his other calling for him and he _couldn’t reach him_ —

Then his eyes shot open as he jerked up in bed, sucking in air like he had nearly drowned.

Moonlight streamed in through the window, illumining his desk and part of the floor but leaving everything else in shadows. The Puzzle lay at his side, just far enough away so that it wouldn’t poke him in his sleep, but close enough to lay his hand over in reassurance. He checked everything over, finding himself chilly, shaky with adrenaline, but unharmed, unchanged.

He was home. In his bed. Everything was fine.

“Aibou …”

Yuugi didn’t think he had ever been so happy to hear that voice. He let out a long, trembling breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

“Mou hitori no boku.” He sat up properly, peering around the darkened room to find where his other self had manifested. “Are you okay? Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake—or, disturb you, or—sorry. I just had a bad dream, it’s nothing, you can—”

“Aibou.”

“Mm?” Yuugi asked, tilting his head.

Then it hit him.

He had heard his other self’s voice thousands of times. It was so similar to his own voice, yet so different at the same time. He _knew_ what it sounded like, when he was only a spirit, transparent at his side, when he wasn’t in control of the body. Ethereal, distant, echoing in his head as if he spoke directly into his mind.

This voice came from his left.

_Below_ him.

And it was raspy. Weak. _Real_.

He turned his head slowly, like someone looking over their shoulder in a horror movie when they already knew something was there. Some _one_ was there. He knew the owner of the voice would never harm him, not like the murderers sneaking around in dark corners in the movies. But he couldn’t bring himself to move any faster.

His eyes shifted down and fell on the figure sprawled out on the carpet just below his bed, pushing himself up from the floor on trembling arms. Even in the darkness, he recognized the gleam of familiar violet eyes, sharper than his own, and hair spiking up in the same signature shape he saw every morning in the mirror.

Yuugi blinked, trying to clear the sleep from his eyes, forcing away what he was sure was just a hallucination. But the image stayed, and the figure grunted as he struggled to keep his limp, shaky body from collapsing. All the time, his eyes never left Yuugi’s, clinging to his gaze like his only lifeline in a strange and terrifying world.

Sitting on the floor, staring back at him, was his other self.

Startled. Solid.

And alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, that wasn't meant to be a huge surprise. Just an explanation. ;)
> 
> Thank you so, so much to everyone who has commented, left kudos, and/or bookmarked. Just two chapters left!


	2. Chapter 2

Yuugi’s mouth hung open, moving as if he wanted to speak, but his brain simply couldn’t find the words.

He was still dreaming. He was _definitely_ still dreaming. Because his other self was a spirit living in the Puzzle. He could project himself, and he often did—Yuugi had woken up several times to find him sitting at his desk, staring out the skylight at the moon or even watching Yuugi with soft, yet piercing eyes.

He didn’t have a body. Not unless …

Yuugi looked down at himself, twisted his hands. No. He was solid.

He looked to the figure beside his bed. The light was better there, the moon’s glow illuminating his other self’s form. And Yuugi definitely could not see through him.

This didn’t feel like a dream. But it had to be. It—

He swallowed.

“You’re … you’re …”

“Aibou …” his other self breathed, his voice cracked, so _new,_ like he had never used it before.

Because he _had_ never used it before.

Yuugi pinched his arm, squeezed his eyes shut, and looked again. Nothing changed. He knew the arm-pinching technique didn’t always work, but … He held his other self’s gaze.

“You are, I mean, it’s not … a trick of the light, or …?”

His other self said nothing. But seconds later, he shivered, pulling his arms as close to his torso as he could while still using them to support himself. Yuugi blinked. His other self shivered again, and for the first time Yuugi realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“Oh!” He threw the blankets off his own body and swung his legs off the edge of the bed, climbing around his other self. “You … you must be freezing. Here, I’ll get you some clothes …”

Without another glance at the figure he knew hadn’t stopped watching him, he scrambled to his closet, pulling open the door and sorting through his clothes, searching for—what did he need again?—pajamas. Every few seconds he felt his head twitching to look over his shoulder, but each time he held himself back.

He had seen his other self at some of his worst points. Angry, cruel, terrified, broken-hearted. But he had never seen him look so … weak. So distressed, like a naked child thrown out into the cold.

Which he was. He was a bit older than a child, and the room was only a little chilly, but Yuugi couldn’t think of a better comparison to make.

It felt wrong, to see his strong, seemingly fearless other self sitting on the floor like he didn’t know how to stand up, arms held close for warmth, his whole body trembling, though whether from cold or fear Yuugi couldn’t tell. His brain wasn’t working, he looked in the wrong parts of the closet three times before he found his stack of pajamas. He pulled out one of his favorite pairs—other than the starry ones he wore now—and took a deep breath before carrying them back across the room.

“Here,” he murmured, kneeling at his other self’s side, pajamas held out. The boy, familiar yet like a stranger _,_ turned to face him with struggling motions, like an infant trying to turn over for the first time.

In the moonlight, Yuugi could make him out a little better. His hair was the same as always, his eyes the same violet with tinges of crimson. Only his skin seemed to have changed, from a pale peach to a rich bronze, new and unscathed.

And … completely naked.

Yuugi blinked, then rushed back to his closet to grab a pair of underwear.

Really, he just wasn’t thinking right now.

Getting his other self dressed was a bit like dressing a doll—which he had done several times when Anzu was younger and still liked to play with dolls, and he had helped her find outfits to suit them. For all his other self loved to offer fashion advice, loved to _pick_ their clothing, Yuugi didn’t think he had ever actually _dressed_ the body. Or had he? When Yuugi had been locked away by the Orichalcos, had he had to change clothes? According to his friends, he had only been gone a day or so, even though it had seemed longer. Even if it _had_ been longer, he doubted his other self would have bothered.

It took them five minutes to get Yuugi’s other self into pajamas, and by that time, he seemed to have exhausted the tiny bit of energy he possessed. His breaths came harder, and even though Yuugi had picked his warmest pajamas, he still shivered.

Yuugi knelt next to him, helpless, _useless,_ shouldn’t he know what to do? Why was this happening? _What was he supposed to do_?

He swallowed and shook his head, forcing his brain to work again.

“Okay. The floor can’t be that comfortable. Let’s get you into bed …”

His other self didn’t speak. Yuugi slipped his hands under his arms and lifted him up—or tried. They were both small, but Yuugi had never been physically strong. But on the second try he dragged him toward the bed, up and forward and onto the mattress.

Only at the last moment did he notice the Puzzle, still in its normal spot close to the pillow. He managed to nudge it away with his elbow without knocking it into the wall, then set his other self down as gently as he could manage. He lay there like a rag doll while Yuugi tugged his legs onto the bed and arranged his limbs so that he looked halfway comfortable. Yuugi tried not to think about how much it felt like moving a corpse.

By the time he finished, his arms ached, and his heart pounded from the strain. His breathing slowed, and he sat on the bed in front of his other self, chewing his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

“I don’t get it. How did this …?” He wanted to grip his hair and scream. Here was his other self, suddenly thrown into a very human, very _alive_ body, and all he could do was get him pajamas and drop him in bed. He was the chosen vessel, wasn’t he? Shouldn’t he do more than this? Then he blinked, looking down at the far-too-still figure lying in front of him. “Mou hitori no boku? Are you okay?”

His other self hummed and dragged his eyes open, looking up at Yuugi as if he were a blur. “Just … tired, aibou.”

Yuugi’s eyes softened. He pursed his lips.

“You should get some sleep.”

“Mm …”

Yuugi huffed a sigh, shaking his head.

“We’ll figure this out. We always do, don’t we? Weirder things have happened. I think.”

His mind was reeling, racing around every possibility, everything that had happened that day, trying to find _anything_ that would tell him why this was happening. _How_ this was happening.

But then he looked again at his other self, limp as a newborn, his eyes drooping, his limbs still in the same position, as if he didn’t have the energy to move them. And the questions bouncing through his head slowed. Still there, still poking at his brain, but quieter, like whispers in the background. Whispers that no longer held any priority over the exhausted figure whose eyes finally fell shut.

Yuugi exhaled, and felt all his tension flow out with his breath.

He picked up the Puzzle and set it with his usual care on the nightstand. He didn’t want to risk breaking it on any day, but now … he had no idea what would happen to his other self if a piece _did_ fall out. And he really didn’t want to know.

Puzzle secure, Yuugi climbed over his other self to lay down near the wall, scooting back as much as possible to give him plenty of space. He grabbed the blankets and tugged them up to cover both their bodies, settling his head on the edge of the pillow.

He shouldn’t have been able to get to sleep easily. There were too many questions unanswered, none of this made sense, and for all he knew someone could show up in five seconds and try to kill them. But the adrenaline rush that had woken him earlier had faded, leaving him drained and empty. He stared at his other self, already deep in sleep, more peaceful than Yuugi had ever seen.

If he was so relaxed … they couldn’t be in danger, right?

Not now, at least. Not yet.

Yuugi’s eyes closed against his will, and his body settled against the mattress. They would figure this out tomorrow. Yes. Until then, everything would be fine.

 

*

 

Yuugi blinked open his eyes to the sun glaring through his skylight and warm breath gusting against his cheeks.

His gaze focused on the face a good twenty centimeters away from his own, and his brain snapped awake so fast it almost made him dizzy.

His other self. Last night, on the floor. Dropping him onto the bed.

This was his other self. Asleep, right next to him.

For a second, he forgot how to breathe.

It had been _real._

He blinked several times again, taking in the sight of his other self. His face, normally creased with lines of concern or worry, completely smoothed over, making him look young, almost younger than Yuugi himself.

Solid. _Real._

“Mou hitori no boku.”

He spoke the name without even realizing it, but only a second later, his other self hummed and shifted, then dragged his eyelids open as if they had turned into lead weights.

Violet met violet. For a minute, they just stared at each other, more awake by the second, and for the first time Yuugi realized that he had no idea what his other self was thinking, what he was feeling. If he was scared, confused, happy, sad, _anything._ The link was gone. But those eyes remained as soft as they had ever been, looking at him as gently as as they always had. And that was enough. At least for now.

“I guess it really happened,” he murmured, feeling like he was shattering something sacred as the silence disappeared.

His other self looked at him, expression unchanged. “Mm.”

Yuugi swallowed and licked his lips, then pushed himself up to sit against the pillow.

“Are you … feeling better?”

“Yes,” his other self replied. With much slower movements, he sat up as well, rolling his shoulders and stretching muscles that had never been used. “Sleeping … sleeping helped.”

Another pause. The silence hung like a perfectly balanced seesaw, waiting for the bit of weight that would throw it off.

Yuugi cleared his throat. “Do you think you can stand?”

His other self looked down at his legs like foreign objects, a slight crease between his eyebrows.

“I think so.”

More hesitantly than Yuugi had seen him do anything in a long time, his other self slid his legs out from under the blankets and hung them over the side of the bed. He put his feet on the floor, his hands on the edge of the mattress, and pushed up. He wobbled, and Yuugi moved forward, ready to catch him. But he didn’t fall. Slowly, he looked over his shoulder and offered a tiny smile, a gleam of accomplishment in his eyes.

Yuugi grinned and climbed off the bed to stand beside him.

“Good.” He fidgeted, fighting back the awkwardness threatening to overwhelm him. This was his other self. Looking at him with more trust, more affection than anyone ever had. Yuugi stood up straighter. “How about we go downstairs?”

His other self nodded.

Yuugi smiled wider, nodded back, and took a step toward the door. He paused, then reached back to the nightstand and slipped the Millennium Puzzle over his neck. It settled close to his stomach, and somehow, the weight, even the sharp edges that poked him through his pajamas, offered a small sense of comfort. He turned around again and gave his other self a gentle smile. He led the way, and his other self followed him in slow, baby steps, out of the room and down the hall.

After last night, Yuugi wasn’t surprised at his other self’s slowness. But he did think about it. The spirit had not only borrowed his body, but maneuvered it through difficult situations better than Yuugi himself. He did handsprings and flips and ran faster than Yuugi could ever remember running in his life. And now this.

But this was a new body, he supposed. Like an infant trying to walk right after being born. Every muscle, every bone, pulled from nothing. Like a baby.

A baby, in the form of a teenage boy.

With the mind of a three-thousand-year-old king.

His other self had to keep a hand on the wall all the way down the stairs, but the two of them made it down without incident, and started toward the kitchen. His other self stared at everything as if seeing it for the first time, taking it all in with brand new eyes.

A moment later, he sniffed the air. It was only then that Yuugi noticed the smell of eggs wafting through the house, and the sound of a pan sizzling nearby, mixed with a voice they both knew, humming something unfamiliar and very off-tune.

Yuugi grinned. Well, at least Jii-chan didn’t seem to have burned breakfast yet.

They stepped up to the kitchen doorway, and Yuugi’s eyes quickly found Jii-chan standing in front of the stove, a steaming pot of rice set aside while fried eggs sizzled on a saucepan. Yuugi licked his lips, and a glance at his side showed his other self’s eyes locked on the food, as if he had just now realized he was hungry.

So he _did_ feel hunger. He could sleep, but Yuugi hadn’t even considered whether he would need food.

Somehow, it felt like a reassurance.

He took another step onto the tile floor. Jii-chan straightened.

“Good morning, Yuugi!” he said, turning away from the stove with a wide grin. “How did you sl—”

The words died in his throat so fast Yuugi feared, for a split second, that he had died, right there, mid-sentence. Then he blinked, and blinked again, his eyes shifting back and forth from one Yuugi to another, his mouth wide open, as if he had forgotten he left it that way.

Yuugi chuckled more than a little sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. Then he held up both hands in what he hoped was a calming gesture.

“Jii-chan … I know this is … a shock, I …”

But Jii-chan hadn’t even moved. Yuugi bit his lip and groaned, glancing at his other self, who stood in nervous silence at his side.

“I knew we should have broken it to him slowly …” Yuugi murmured.

His other self looked at him, brow creased in concern. “Should I go back upstairs?”

Yuugi sighed.

“No, it’s done now … Jii-chan? Are you okay?”

Jii-chan just stood there for another ten seconds, blinking. At last, a bit of the tension seemed to leave his shoulders, and his eyes settled fully on Yuugi’s other self.

“This is him, isn’t it?” he asked, though it wasn’t really a question. “The spirit of the Puzzle? The _… other_ Yuugi?”

Yuugi’s other self nodded, the motion jerky and unsure. “Yes, Sugoroku-jii-san.”

As soon as the words left his lips, something melted in Jii-chan’s face. His shock slipped away, and his mouth curled into an old, wrinkly smile. The same smile that had made Yuugi feel just a little bit safer growing up.

“Now, now. You’ve called me ‘Jii-chan’ plenty of times, I don’t see any reason to go backwards.”

To Yuugi’s surprise, Jii-chan didn’t ask many questions. After his initial shock, he accepted the fact that the spirit residing in Yuugi’s pendant had somehow gained a body of his own as if it happened every day. He finished the slightly-burned eggs, spooning them out onto three plates with some leftover vegetables and rice in small bowls. A minute later, they were all seated at the table, placing their hands together in a quick prayer of thanks before picking up their chopsticks and beginning to eat.

After his first bite, Yuugi’s attention drifted to his other self, seated in Mama’s usual chair at his left. He fumbled with his chopsticks, as if he _knew_ how to use them but his fingers had forgotten, but after a few tries he managed to pick up his first bite of egg. He brought it to his lips and chewed.

His eyes grew, all but gleaming with delight. He swallowed, then snatched up another piece, twice as big as the first, and stuffed it in his mouth.

Yuugi watched as his other self dug into his breakfast with even more enthusiasm than Jounouchi-kun after he had forgotten to eat breakfast and lunch while training with Jii-chan. All uncertainty and formality gone, it was a small miracle he remembered to close his mouth while he chewed. Yuugi bit down on his lip to hold back his laughter.

“So how is it?” asked.

His other self looked at him, cheeks puffed out with food, eyes wide and gleaming.

“Mm! S’mzing, oi-bo!”

Yuugi barely kept himself from snorting. If Mama had been there, she would have been mortified, but Jii-chan only snickered at the sight of the usually-dignified young man trying to talk with his mouth completely full of food.

“You can wait to answer until you’ve swallowed,” Yuugi said, his voice shaky from suppressed laughter.

His other self hummed, then swallowed, turning to face Jii-chan with wonder in his eyes.

“This is amazing, Jii-chan. Your cooking is excellent.”

Yuugi blinked. He had certainly met _worse_ cooks than Jii-chan—Jounouchi-kun could barely pour cereal, though both Honda-kun and Anzu were fairly skilled—but he had certainly met better. Yet he didn’t doubt his other self’s sincerity for a second.

Had he really eaten before? He had had coffee with Anzu and they must have had snacks since they had been out basically all day, and certainly he had eaten something while he had been locked away by the Orichalcos … but had he ever eaten a real meal? Was it the same in this body as it had been in Yuugi’s? Or was it completely new?

But he didn’t get a chance to ask, since his other self continued to scarf down his meal so fast it was a wonder he didn’t choke.

He finished a good five minutes before Yuugi and Jii-chan, and sat with seemingly infinite patience waiting for them to finish before he got up and thanked Jii-chan for the fantastic meal. Jii-chan beamed. They gathered all the dirty dishes and brought them to the sink, before Jii-chan headed off to open up the shop, leaving Yuugi and his other self alone.

Yuugi fidgeted in the newfound silence, the distraction of breakfast gone, leaving only the strange and overwhelming truth standing in front of him. He exhaled.

“So … what should we do now?”

“Aibou?” his other self asked, eyebrows creased.

Yuugi leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms, and only vaguely realized he had mimicked his other self’s favorite pose. “I mean, you’re … you’re … you have a _body._ That _isn’t mine._ It even looks different from mine! Kind of. Sort of. But … I don’t know, it doesn’t _feel_ like anything’s wrong, but I still feel like we should do something.”

He shook his head, helpless. But despite his inner turmoil, despite the fact that he couldn’t make sense of any of this, his other self just looked at him, as calm as ever. So trusting that whatever he decided, it would be the right choice.

“What do you want to do, aibou?”

Yuugi hesitated, then stood up straighter.

“Maybe … we should call Anzu,” he said, his certainty growing by the second. He nodded. “And Jounouchi-kun and Honda-kun. Get an outside perspective, other than Jii-chan.”

A smile curled up the corners of his lips.

“And it’d be nice to have them see you.”

His other self smiled back, and Yuugi felt some of the tension in his chest slip away. “I’d like that.”

Yuugi beamed.

“Great! I’ll call them and see if they’re free. It’s Saturday, so we usually meet up anyway, but since we just got together last night, I don’t know if they already had something planned.”

To his immense relief, as he called each of them in turn, all his friends agreed to meet him for lunch. Jounouchi-kun asked him if everything was okay, but Yuugi brushed off his concern, and Jounouchi-kun didn’t bring it up again. Anzu was a little tougher to convince, but she finally gave in, if only because she realized that he wasn’t going to tell her until they met in person.

Yuugi considered just telling them the truth, but it was far too difficult to put into words. No. It would be better for them to see it for themselves.

His other self waited with never-ending patience until he finished all three calls and slipped his phone back into his pocket, grinning much more easily with the promise of his friends’ support.

“I asked them to meet us at Burger World at noon,” he said. “So we’ve got more than an hour before we need to head out.”

His other self nodded. “What should we do until then?”

Yuugi hummed and looked down at his own starry pajamas and the sleeveless shirt and drawstring pants his other self wore.

“Well, we need to get dressed, for one thing. Oh! And before we do that, I need to brush my—mou hitori no boku, have you ever brushed your teeth before?”

His other self blinked and paused, as if trying to find something in his cluttered maze of a mind.

“I know how,” he replied at last. “I’ve seen it in your memories.”

“But you’ve never done it.”

“I’ve never needed to.”

Yuugi smiled, holding back a sigh. There were probably a lot of those things that he hadn’t thought of. Little things that he just took for granted. But he couldn’t bring himself to feel the least bit annoyed. He had never thought his other self would get the chance to do these things. But now …

His smile grew, and he nodded over his shoulder, toward the stairs.

“Come on, I’ll show you.”

 

*

 

As it turned out, brushing teeth was a lot like getting dressed: he had seen Aibou’s memories, he _knew_ how to do it, but this body had no muscle memory, even now that his muscles weren’t as weak and prone to failing as a newborn giraffe’s.

He ended up getting toothpaste all over his face, some even dripping onto his pajama shirt, but his teeth felt clean, and there was something oddly satisfying about placing the bright red spare toothbrush next to the blue one Aibou used every day.

They paused, staring at their matching reflections side by side in the mirror. It should have felt wrong, unnatural, but it was all Yami could do not to smile. For a good minute they stood there, silent, until Aibou shifted.

“Do you want to take a shower?” he asked. He hesitated. “I don’t think you’d really stink, since you haven’t even been, well, _alive_ that along, but …”

He shrugged. Yami didn’t really know what it was like to feel clean or dirty—Aibou rarely gave him control right after a shower, and though he had been sweat-soaked and in desperate need of a bath several times, he had usually been too busy riding the adrenaline rush of their most recent adventure to notice. Finally, he nodded.

“I’d like to try.”

Aibou blinked, then grinned.

“Okay!” He started toward the bathroom, even though Yami knew perfectly well where it was, then paused. “Wait, do … do you even know … I mean, I always took the Puzzle off, so …”

He looked away, painfully awkward. Yami bit back the fond smile tugging at his lips, and cleared his throat.

“I know how to turn the water on,” he replied. “I never paid attention … but it’s in your memories, so I think I can figure it out.”

Aibou met his eyes again, smiled, and nodded. He left the room, calling over his shoulder that he had to do the dishes from breakfast, but would be back soon. Yami closed the bathroom door behind him.

Unlike brushing teeth and getting dressed, Aibou had never actually worn the Puzzle, or kept it right by his side, while he was in the shower, and Yami had never manifested himself to talk or even connected to Aibou’s mind. Even early on, he had a sense of that being something private, and though he certainly wouldn’t have hesitated to come out if he sensed danger, he made it a habit to retreat more deeply into the Puzzle every morning when Aibou went into the bathroom.

So he relied entirely on the memories the two of them shared to figure out how to do this.

He slipped out of his pajamas—that part he knew—and climbed into the shower, then stared at the silver knobs as if they might start talking and reveal their secrets if he intimidated them hard enough. No such luck. Right. He could beat the best duelists in the world, he could figure this out. He reached for one knob, then the other, then back to the first again and turned it before he could change his mind.

Freezing cold water shot out from above him, and he jumped so hard he almost fell over.

He grabbed the other knob and turned it as fast as his hand would move, and seconds later, the cold water warmed, bit by bit, until it was just short of too hot. He stood up, steadied himself on the slippery floor, and closed his eyes.

Why had he never asked Aibou to let him try this before now?

His whole body tingled with the unfamiliar, _marvelous_ sensation of hot water streaming over his skin. He could feel his pulse stronger than before, pumping blood through him, rushing through his veins—was that normal? His muscles relaxed more by the second as the warmth soaked into them. If he hadn’t been afraid of hitting his head or drowning, he might have fallen asleep.

The seconds blurred into minutes as he stood there, wobbling occasionally but never losing his balance, his mind lost to everything but the water pouring down over him. A tiny smile touched his lips, and he leaned back to let it soak his hair, trickle over his eyelids and cheeks, slow his breathing and heartbeat, his arms hanging limp at his sides.

This was what it was like. This was what it was like to feel alive.

“Mou hitori no boku?”

Yami jumped, his eyes flying open at the familiar voice, unmistakeable even muffled through the door. And currently laced with concern. A knock followed seconds later, and Yami shook himself out of his shower-induced trance.

“Yes?”

“You didn’t fall, did you?” Aibou called.

Yami might have felt his cheeks flush, if they hadn’t already been plenty warm from the hot water.

“I’m fine, aibou,” he replied, as quietly as he could manage while still loud enough to make out. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

A pause. “I forgot to get you some clothes. Do you want me to grab you some?”

Yami perked up. He had never gotten to choose their clothes before. Not completely—he would certainly comment on Aibou’s outfits and make suggestions, and he had little doubt that some of Aibou’s most recent accessory additions had been because of his influence, but he had never chosen an entire outfit that _he_ would be wearing.

The oddest thrill ran through him, and he found himself smiling as he picked up the soap and set to actually washing himself off.

“No, thank you, aibou, I’ll pick something out.”

Once he had stopped luxuriating in the hot water and got to bathing, he was out of the shower in only five minutes. He missed it as soon as the turned it off, and he wondered if it would be weird if he asked to take another one that night. If not, at least he could take one tomorrow morning. He dried himself off with the fluffy towel hanging from the rack, then wrapped it around his waist and pulled open the door.

The rush of cool air after the steamy fog of the bathroom made him shiver. A second later, Aibou walked into view, smiling. He looked like he might offer a teasing comment—Yami wondered how long he had spent in the shower that Aibou felt the need to check on him—but said nothing in the end. He glanced away.

“Do you think you … need help getting dressed this time?” he asked.

Despite the apparent discomfort over the question—he had to admit it was a little embarrassing, that he had been so weak he couldn’t even put on a shirt—Yami found himself smiling, his eyes soft. “I’ll be fine, aibou. I was just … tired last night.”

Aibou smiled back.

“Okay.”

Yami walked into the bedroom. Aibou started to close the door, then paused, and Yami swore he heard a smirk in his voice as he added one last thing over his shoulder.

“Don’t fall over!”

Yami snapped his head around, eyes wide, but Aibou was already gone.

 

*

 

Honestly, he had no idea why he was waiting outside instead of saving time and getting dressed himself. The two of them had shared a body ever since Yuugi solved the Puzzle—they were beyond caring about nudity, even if his other self usually stayed away out of courtesy while he was in the bathroom. And they looked virtually identical, or at least they had before. Yuugi wasn’t sure whether it was only his skin tone that had changed.

Right. He was Egyptian, wasn’t he? So his skin tone _would_ be darker. Did that mean … was this what his other self had looked like when he was alive? When he was pharaoh?

Did he really look like Yuugi’s _twin_?

Yuugi shook his head. No, he could worry about that later. For now, it was past time for them to leave, and his other self had already been in there—he glanced at the clock down the hall—ten minutes.

He knocked on the door. “Are you almost ready?”

“Mm.”

“What does that mean?” Yuugi asked.

Footsteps approached from inside the room, and Yuugi had just enough time to step back before the door opened, revealing his other self, weight shifted to one side, arms crossed, as if he hadn’t been struggling to even sit up by himself the night before.

He had traded his pajamas for a more fitted sleeveless shirt, this one in bright red, paired with black skinny jeans, boots, two belts, and a jacket he had thrown over his shoulders like a cape. That wouldn’t have surprised Yuugi much at all, if it weren’t for the fact that his other self wore almost every piece of jewelry he owned. His usual thick bracelets, along with at least three other smaller ones, hung on each of his wrists, upper arm bands, a choker Yuugi didn’t even remember buying around his neck, and even a _ring_.

“You need more clothes, aibou. None of these look cool enough,” his other self said, glancing down at himself with a wide smirk that defied his words. “And we need to get you more silver!”

Yuugi came very close to smacking himself in the forehead. He _really_ wasn’t going to let that go, was he?

But to see his other self so cheerful, so proud of himself, so _pleased_ to be in an outfit he had chosen … Yuugi couldn’t help but smile, too.

He slipped into his room and got dressed—though he was tempted to try something new, experiment with his outfit like his other self had done, he ended up going with his usual black sleeveless shirt and the pants and jacket from his school uniform. When he left his bedroom, he found his other self exactly where he had left him, leaning against the wall with everlasting patience.

Yuugi smiled. His other self smiled back, then turned to start down toward the stairs. Something clicked in Yuugi’s mind.

“Wait a sec.” His other self paused, turning to face him again. Yuugi touched the familiar chain hanging around his neck, before lifting it over his head, holding the Puzzle with one hand and holding the chain with the other. “Here.”

He stepped forward and slid the chain over his other self’s equally-large hair, only letting the Puzzle go once it rested securely against his stomach.

His other self blinked.

“Aibou?”

Yuugi shrugged, stepping back.

“I went fifteen years without wearing it, but … you’ve never not worn it,” he said. Then he paused, looking up again with wide eyes. “Unless you don’t want to wear it, I mean it _is_ heavy—”

“No. This is fine,” his other self cut in, cradling the Puzzle, a soft smile on his lips. “Thank you, aibou.”

All Yuugi could do was nod.

They headed out a short time after, wearing matching pairs of Yuugi’s favorite boots—he thanked his past self for thinking to buy two since he liked them so much. Though Yuugi racked his brain for conversation topics, something light, something simple, they said almost nothing on the way to Burger World. Instead, his other self looked around him, seeing the town he had walked around a hundred times through new eyes. His _own_ eyes. Yuugi wondered if it looked any different.

For fifteen minutes, they walked in silence, Yuugi letting a small smile curve his lips as he watched his other self enjoy the world. Like watching a child discovering everything for the first time, a child who had seen it all a thousand times but had never thought he would experience any of it for himself.

They turned a corner, and Yuugi saw the neon sign above the building that still made his stomach twist. The escaped criminal. The game he didn’t witness, the stories of a man who had dropped a lighter and set himself on fire. The things he and his other self had never really talked about. Then he noticed the young man standing next to the front doors, and his face lit up.

“Jounouchi-kun!”

He ran forward, his other self following close at his heels. Jounouchi-kun turned and grinned, waving.

“Oh, hey, Yuugi!” he called back. “I wasn’t sure if you were here yet. How’s it—”

His smile fell as Yuugi and his other self got closer, close enough for anyone to tell that they weren’t a trick of the light. Yuugi stopped a few meters away, his other self only centimeters to his left, not quite touching. Jounouchi-kun frowned and pointed.

“Wait, who’s …”

But he didn’t finish. Jounouchi-kun might have been slow to catch on, but he wasn’t stupid. And Yuugi saw the moment his brain clicked, and his jaw fell open, and he looked back and forth from Yuugi to Yuugi as if trying to figure out which one was the illusion, even though he must have known it was neither.

Yuugi cleared his throat, and Jounouchi-kun’s eyes snapped toward him again, wide and baffled and vaguely disturbed. A shy, nervous smile found its way onto Yuugi’s lips as he tilted his head toward the mirror image standing at his side.

“Jounouchi-kun … this is the other me.”


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn’t any easier to break the news to Honda-kun.

He had shown up about five minutes later, panting, scrambling so much that, at first, he looked at all three of them standing there and didn’t even flinch. He greeted them one by one: “Jounouchi,” “Yuugi,” and “Yuugi.” It had taken him all the half-minute he needed to breathe properly again before his head shot up, his jaw stretching toward the ground, while Yuugi tried his best to explain without sounding completely insane.

Anzu—who had had to take an alternate, longer route due to construction and arrived last—nearly fainted.

By the time they went inside, Jounouchi-kun and Honda-kun were still gawking, pointing at each of them in turn and stumbling out words that were probably meant to be questions. Despite her initial shock, Anzu recovered the fastest, and Yami found her staring at him every time he looked her way.

They all placed their orders—Yami freezing up a bit when it was his turn, but finally said he would have the same as Aibou. Then they sat in one of the most uncomfortable, heavy silences Yami had witnessed among their group. But unlike other times, there was no grief over a loss, no fear over the dangers to come. There was only shock, and the simple fact that no one seemed to know what to say. Yami didn’t blame them. He barely knew what to say himself.

It was Anzu who cleared her throat at last.

“So you’re … separate now.”

Aibou glanced at Yami, then nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

“And you have no idea how it happened,” she went on.

“No,” Yami replied. “I just … appeared last night. I was in the Puzzle, and I felt this … tugging, and then I was there. On the floor.”

Anzu nodded. Then she leaned in a bit, looking over the two of them more closely. “You’re both okay, though?”

Aibou shrugged.

“Well, I feel fine. Mou hitori no boku?”

“Mm,” Yami hummed, resisting the urge to smirk when Aibou refused to meet Anzu’s intense gaze.

No one said anything for almost half a minute. Aibou fiddled with his fingers, glancing up every few seconds, as if afraid all three of their friends would simply get up and walk away.

Finally, Honda-kun hummed.

“Well … I guess we should really be used to this stuff by now.”

Jounouchi-kun smirked. “Yeah. I mean, there’s an ancient spirit living in your pendant. Him suddenly getting his own body probably shouldn’t be a huge shock.”

Aibou looked up in full, a smile spreading across his face. Yami found himself grinning, too, watching the anxiety melt away from his aibou, replaced by sheer joy at the reminder of the loyalty of his friends.

Then Honda-kun’s brow furrowed. “So, if this is the other Yuugi, why is he so tan?”

Yami looked down at himself, at the deep bronze skin of his hands that had replaced the pale peach he had grown so used to. He hadn’t paid muchattention to it, focusing instead on the more pressing questions like, “how did this even happen?” and “surely I knew how to walk in my aibou’s body?”

“I’m not sure,” he replied, as much to himself as to Honda-kun. “I just … appeared like this.”

Aibou hummed. “I think that’s what he looked like when he was … alive. In Egypt.”

Jounouchi-kun and Honda-kun exchanged slightly confused glances, but Anzu just nodded.

“That makes sense. He wouldn’t be as pale if he was born there.” A smile stretched across her face as she looked between the two of them, a little like she had looked at Yami as he experienced the town with her on that not-date months before. “But it’s amazing! Other than that, you could be twins.”

Aibou blushed, while Yami just blinked and felt a bit like a museum exhibit, though he knew Anzu would never think of him as such. Her smile fell after a moment, her brow furrowing in thought.

“Did Ishizu-san ever say anything about that? Why you look so much alike?”

Yami looked at Aibou. Aibou looked back. Neither of them spoke, but they didn’t need to. They looked at Anzu and shook their heads.

“We have no idea.”

Yami hadn’t planned it, and he was sure Aibou hadn’t either. But the words came out of their mouths at the exact same time, so perfectly matched it sounded like a single voice instead of two.

Anzu stared. Honda-kun’s jaw dropped. Jounouchi-kun’s eyebrows rose.

“Okay, that’s kinda creepy,” he said. “Are you … connected or something?”

Aibou looked at Yami again. Yami didn’t need the link to see the faint sadness behind his eyes. Aibou shook his head.

“No. We used to be, when we were in the same body, but … not since we separated.”

Yami glanced away. Even if he could read Aibou’s face as clear as a book, it wasn’t the same as the link between their souls. He had never made a habit of reading Aibou’s mind unless he was searching for memories to understand some part of the world. But there was something about knowing each other’s feelings, communicating without opening their mouths.

He missed it.

Jounouchi-kun hummed, and the two of them raised their heads. He looked at the Puzzle around Yami’s neck, then at Aibou, then at Yami. “So … he doesn’t disappear or anything if the Puzzle’s not close by?”

Another wordless glance.

“Well, we haven’t really been that far apart yet,” Aibou replied. “But further than the Puzzle would have allowed before.”

“We’ve both been away from it without any trouble so far,” Yami went on. “We’re just—”

“—carrying it around for safe keeping—”

“—since people are always trying to steal it—”

“—and that’s the _last_ thing we need right now,” Aibou finished, chuckling as Yami nodded at his side.

Anzu, Jounouchi-kun and Honda-kun stared, mouths hanging open, even Anzu’s dignity lost for the sake of shock.

Honda-kun lifted a finger to point first at Aibou, then at Yami, then at Aibou a second time.

“Do that again.”

Yami and Aibou looked at one another. Blinked. Back to the group. “What?” they asked, their voices once again matching so closely it was hard to tell them apart.

Jounouchi-kun dropped his shoulders and shook his head, his lips quirking into a grin.

“Identical twins, anybody?”

Honda-kun nodded, and Yami and Aibou were left looking at them and each other in bafflement. Yami almost opened his mouth to ask, but decided it probably wasn’t worth any more confusion.

A second later, the waitress returned with their food, and Yami found all his thoughts gone in favor of the amazing scents wafting from the tray.

Aibou _loved_ burgers. He knew that from his earliest days after emerging from the Puzzle. He had dozens of memories of it, but he had never _eaten_ one. And though he _knew,_ deep down, what a hamburger tasted like, when he picked his up and took a bite, his brain exploded with a hundred new, wonderful sensations he couldn’t have even imagined before.

He hummed, closing his eyes and savoring the flavor as he chewed. Aibou laughed.

The rest of the lunch passed with no more awkward silences, no more frowns, no more heavy conversations. Just chatter and laughter and the sort of warm, comfortable energy Yami had never realized he craved until he got his first taste. The food was delicious— _beyond_ delicious—but the company was better.

After what felt like thirty minutes, but apparently was more like an hour and a half, they paid for their food and started out of the restaurant, stomachs full and smiles wide.

“So what have we got planned today?” Honda-kun asked as they stepped through the doors and out into the afternoon sun. “Are we gonna show the other Yuugi around town? I mean, I guess he’s already seen it, since he’s been living in your head this whole time, but there’s gotta be stuff he hasn’t seen!”

Jounouchi-kun’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, we could go to the arcade!”

“I’ve taken him there already, actually,” Anzu said.

“Well, that doesn’t mean we can’t go again!” He grinned wider. “Oh, or that new zombie movie just came out! We could go see that!”

Everyone looked ready to add something to the list, and Yami felt his chest warm. But then he caught Aibou shifting in the corner of his eye, and he turned to find his smile gone, as he stared at the ground in something like guilt. He cleared his throat. Everyone turned.

“Actually, guys … I was hoping I could get your help in … figuring this out.”

Honda-kun blinked. “Figuring out …?”

“How this happened,” Aibou replied, meeting Yami’s eyes for just a moment, apologetic, before he looked back to everyone else. “And if someone’s behind it.”

One by one, three faces fell. Yami shifted, frowning, but more out of concern than disappointment. Anzu looked between Yami and Aibou, brow tilted up.

“But … you just got here. It’d be a shame not to spend some time enjoying it.”

Aibou bit his lip. “I know, Anzu, but … something weird like this doesn’t just _happen_.”

Honda-kun huffed.

“Yeah. From what we’re used to, I’d expect some evil dude to show up in about fifteen seconds.”

Jounouchi-kun blinked, then lifted his wrist and glanced at his old black watch. Honda-kun rolled his eyes.

“Exaggeration, Jounouchi!”

But Aibou just rubbed the back of his head, and Yami read the discomfort plain in his eyes. He stayed silent as Aibou let out a long and heavy breath.

“If we don’t do something now, we might just be _asking_ for something bad to happen.” He sighed again. “I … know we’ve never gotten this chance before, and it’d be great to just hang out together, but …”

He stopped. Yami’s eyebrows curled in sympathy, and though he wanted to put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, he couldn’t quite bring himself to move.

“Aibou …”

Aibou held his head up higher, his face stern.

“We have to figure this out.” He nodded once, as if to convince himself. “Before we do anything else.”

Yami opened his mouth, then closed it again.

A simple day out with their friends. That was all Aibou had wanted, all he had tried time and time again to bring Yami into. But when had they ever been allowed peace? Had a day passed since Yami had woken up when something _hadn’t_ gone wrong?

Would those days come after he left?

For more than a minute, no one spoke, everyone lost in thought, Jounouchi-kun and Honda-kun looking disappointed and Anzu just looking sad. Aibou … Yami had never wished more dearly for their link, to know what he was feeling. They stepped out of the way of the door when people kept trying to get past them, gathering near the side wall of the restaurant and staring at the ground, rubbing their arms and fidgeting.

“So what should we do?” Jounouchi-kun asked at last, breaking the silence with just as little hesitance as always. “I mean, considering that no one’s showed up and tried to steal the Puzzle or the god cards or whatever, or told us who we need to duel or … anything, really.”

They all exchanged looks, silently seeking answers, but everyone seemed to turn up blank. Aibou chewed his lip, and Yami stood there, quiet and helpless.

Anzu raised her head.

“Maybe we should call Ishizu-san. She seemed willing to help back in Battle City, and she knows a lot more about all of this than we do.”

Aibou turned to face her, already grinning, his eyes lit up once again. “Great idea, Anzu!”

Yami found his own lips twitching up in return, and an ache he had barely noticed in his chest loosened. He would really have to thank Anzu when he got the chance.

Honda-kun hummed. “Yeah, but how do we call her if we don’t have her number?”

“I do,” Anzu replied. She pulled out her phone and turned to Aibou as she moved her thumb along the keypad. “Here, I’ll send it to you.”

As she finished her text, Jounouchi-kun raised an eyebrow.

“Were you expecting all of this to happen, Anzu?”

Anzu pocketed her cell phone just as Aibou’s phone buzzed, then glared and crossed her arms over her chest. “I like to be _prepared,_ Jounouchi. Unlike _some_ people.”

Jounouchi-kun snorted. “Right, because you were _so_ much more prepared than the rest of us when we were freezing and starving in Duelist Kingdom.”

“At least I was smart enough not to try and eat someone else’s _fish._ ”

“Okay, I’m calling her now,” Aibou cut in. He put his thumb to the keypad of his phone, then paused. “Wait, what time is it in Egypt right now?”

Jounouchi-kun and Honda-kun exchanged baffled looks. But Anzu looked up, as if calculating something in her head.

“Well, they’re seven hours behind us, and it’s two here, so it’s probably seven in the morning there. Hopefully Ishizu-san should be awake by now. She told me once that she usually gets up early.”

They all turned to her, brows furrowed.

“How d’you know what time it is in _Egypt,_ Anzu?” Honda-kun asked, sounding both confused and impressed.

Anzu crossed her arms and avoided his gaze.

“Because I’ve done my research,” she replied, a little defensively. “I didn’t want to call Ishizu-san in the middle of the night if I had questions.”

Yami swore that her eyes flicked to him for just a moment, but by the time he tried to meet her gaze, she had looked away.

Aibou pressed a few buttons on his phone, then dialed the number, and when the phone rang it was loud enough for all of them to hear. He held it out between them.

One ring. Two, three, four. Then they heard a click.

“ _Ahl-loh?_ ”

Aibou blinked and glanced at Yami.

“Um … Ishizu-san?” he asked.

“Yuugi?”

There it was. Ishizu sounded like a completely different person when she spoke Japanese. She had almost no accent, and in all the time they had spent with her, none of them had heard her speak her native Arabic.

Aibou smiled, a little shyly—he always made the most interesting expressions while talking on the phone. “Hi, Ishizu-san.”

A pause. It was rare that anything seemed to truly surprise Ishizu, even after she had lost the Millennium Tauk, and Yami wasn’t sure if he should be proud or concerned.

“Is everything alright?” she asked at last.

Aibou chewed his bottom lip.

“Well … kind of. Nothing’s really _wrong,_ but something … strange happened.”

It was evidently a whole lot harder for Aibou to put it into words than to just walk into a room and have people who knew him well slowly come to terms with the fact that there were now two Yuugis, both solid at the same time. But Ishizu had never seemed more than a little fazed by all the craziness that happened around them. She listened without a word for a good five minutes while Aibou explained the situation, Jounouchi-kun and Honda-kun breaking in with occasional pointless comments and Anzu rolling her eyes.

When he finished, another silence followed, longer than before. Aibou didn’t press her, even though Yami could feel the anxiety rolling off him in waves, even without the link.

“Yes, that is highly … unexpected,” Ishizu replied. As usual, she kept her tone even, professional, but Yami had known her through too many painful encounters—however brief those encounters might have been—not to hear the concern edging her voice. “I believe I can find a flight to Japan tomorrow. Do you believe you’ll be alright until then?”

“Tomorrow?” Aibou repeated, his eyes all but bulging. “ _Here_? Ishizu-san, you really don’t have to—”

“I consider this of the utmost importance, Yuugi,” she cut in, as calm as ever. “If there is any chance that this is a sign of a bigger problem, or some enemy we’re unaware of, I would like to be present.”

Aibou opened and closed his mouth, biting his lip, looking around at his friends as if they might be able to help. But Jounouchi-kun, Honda-kun and Anzu just looked back, silent.

Then Yami gently nudged his arm, and drew the phone close enough for him to speak.

“Ishizu.”

A pause. “… Pharaoh?”

“You’re not under any obligation to come,” he started, his shy awkwardness from before gone, replaced by the commanding presence that had dominated Duelist Kingdom and Battle City. Yet laced with a touch of pain he couldn’t quite suppress. “What your family has done for my sake … you never owed me anything, and you certainly don’t now.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say _that,_ ” Jounouchi-kun muttered, too quietly for the phone to pick up, and without any real heart behind it. “I mean, after all that Malik put us through—”

“Jounouchi-kun!” Aibou hissed.

Jounouchi-kun shut his mouth.

“I appreciate your kindness, Pharaoh, but I’m coming of my own free will,” Ishizu replied after a particularly long silence. “I will always be an Ishtar, and a Tomb Keeper. I know you don’t hold us to that duty, but regardless, you brought my brother back to me and gave my family a chance at a better future. And I will do my best to assist you until you are able to find eternal rest.”

Yami’s expression did not change, but he would have been lying if he didn’t see Aibou bite the inside of his lip, or Anzu’s shoulders sag. But he knew both of them would deny it if he asked. He held back a sigh.

“Thank you, Ishizu.”

Yami could almost imagine her slight, professional nod. “I’ll call you when we arrive. Please let me know if anything seems wrong.”

There was a click, and the call ended. Yami flipped the phone shut, and Aibou slipped it back into his pocket.

They all stood there, silent. All of this had been thrust on them in a matter of hours, it seemed, and while he and Aibou were still struggling to accept it, he knew their friends were probably even more lost. It was Jounouchi-kun who finally broke the reverie, leaning against the wall of the restaurant.

“Well, I guess it’s back to ancient Egypt stuff again.”

Anzu’s solemn expression broke into a glare. “Oh, stop complaining, Jounouchi.”

“I’m not complaining!” He held his hands up in defense. “I just hope we don’t have to deal with any more shadow games or evil Bakuras or Orichalcos or—”

“Alright, we get it,” Honda-kun cut him off.

Jounouchi-kun turned to face him.

“You said it yourself, Honda. Every time something weird like this happens, it usually means danger. And it seems like there’s _always_ some ancient history involved.”

Yami knew Jounouchi-kun well enough to know he meant nothing against him. Jounouchi-kun tended to speak before he thought, and after all the times his life and those of his closest friends—and even his sister—had been put on the line, Yami couldn’t blame him for being wary about yet another threat poking its head around the corner.

But he couldn’t help but wonder if Jounouchi-kun might have been happier without all the magic in his life. Certainly without all the danger.

He looked up to find Aibou’s eyes on him, his brow tilted with concern. His lips parted, as if to ask him what was wrong, when Anzu huffed.

“Maybe if you paid more attention in history class, this wouldn’t bother you so much,” she drawled, still glaring at Jounouchi-kun.

Jounouchi-kun snorted, though his face had twisted into a pout. “Oh, like you were a history buff before all this stuff started!”

“I was doing better than _you,_ that’s for sure!”

“Guys, stop it!” Aibou almost whined. Anzu and Jounouchi-kun closed their mouths and turned to him, Anzu concerned, Jounouchi-kun slightly chastised. Aibou sighed. “Hopefully it won’t be a big deal. Ishizu-san will help us figure out what happened and if— _what_ we need to do from here.”

Jounouchi-kun hummed, while Honda-kun bit back a snicker at how much his friend looked like an irritated ten-year-old. Anzu just nodded, solemn once again.

“Yuugi’s right. Until Ishizu-san gets here, there’s nothing we can do. And she said she’d be here tomorrow, so we just need to make sure we’re ready when she arrives.”

They all agreed, even Jounouchi-kun, whose annoyance had faded. Silence hovered over them for several seconds, all their minds likely going in the same direction.

Then Honda-kun lifted his head, brow furrowed, eyes wide.

“Wait … did Ishizu say _‘we’_?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has commented, bookmarked, and left kudos. I'm really flattered by the great response to this. :)
> 
> For those of you who have been following the story over the past week, a heads-up that updates will be slowing down. Until now, I've been catching the story up to where it is on my FF.net account, and now I'll be posting new chapters simultaneously. I update once a week on Tuesdays.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

Their friends finally went home after a late dinner.

All five of them had spent the afternoon in the game shop. Jounouchi-kun had suggested sleeping over, and Honda-kun started talking about calling his parents to tell them he wouldn’t be home that night, but Anzu killed the idea before it could go any further. She had watched Yuugi and his other self closely, and she saw the way his other self’s eyes drooped and he walked just a little slower than usual.

The only time he had been in control of a human body for a full day, nonstop, was when he had been dueling. And then, he had the rush of adrenaline to keep him going, and Yuugi ready to take over the instant he got too tired.

But there was no one to take over his body now. It was his, and he had exhausted it.

The two of them flopped down on the couch after waving their friends off, Yuugi’s other self slumping against the cushions. For a minute, they just sat there, motionless, not saying a thing. Then Yuugi looked to his other self, staring at the opposite wall, breathing slow enough that he might have been sleeping if his eyes hadn’t been open.

He had been quiet today. Yuugi was used to him going hours without talking, occasionally even days, if he was in the Puzzle.

But he wasn’t in the Puzzle. He had been right there, all day, following Yuugi like a puppy who had nowhere else to go.

Yuugi cleared his throat, and his other self instantly turned to face him, eyes wide and attentive. He chewed his lip.

“I meant to say … I’m sorry for answering for you so much of the time today. And talking about you like you’re not right there. I guess I’m just not used to you … being there to answer for yourself.”

He lowered his head, but when he glanced up, he found his other self watching him with a soft, kind gaze and a tiny smile.

“I don’t mind, aibou.”

Yuugi opened his mouth to say that it _mattered,_ that his other self was a person, an individual, and Yuugi should have tried harder to pull him into the conversation—even though he had tried quite a few times already. But under those gentle eyes, he found his mind suddenly blank. He closed his mouth and gave a small, hesitant smile in return.

Then he picked up the remote control and turned on the TV.

He insisted that his other self choose what they watched. They argued about it for several minutes before, at last, his other self agreed, and flipped through the channels until he found some old anime re-runs. The two of them settled in to watch.

But after the first hour, Yuugi’s mind drifted, still trying to soak in all that had happened over the past day. The fact that this was really his _other self_ sitting beside him, solid enough for the cushions to sink a bit under his weight. He could sleep and eat and …

Touch.

Yuugi could touch him now, couldn’t he?

Had he touched him last night? Probably a bit, while he was helping him get the pajama shirt on when he seemed to have forgotten which holes were for his arms and head. But it had been so fleeting, and he had been too overwhelmed to pay any attention to it.

Today, he didn’t think they had touched at all.

He hadn’t even considered it. There had never been anything there _to_ touch in the space his other self occupied. They had tried to touch a few times near the beginning, after Duelist Kingdom, but though they were _aware,_ on some level, of each other’s closeness, there was no sensation. And if they pressed hard at all, they would pass right through. In their soul rooms, in their minds, they could touch, usually a high-five after a particularly hard duel. But it was different. He didn’t know how to describe it, but even though it should have been intimate enough to be uncomfortable—their _souls_ were touching, after all—there was no warmth, no pulse, no discomfort if they high-fived too hard. It wasn’t real.

But now …

Yuugi looked at his other self, still oddly entranced by the TV, one leg crossed over the other, arms folded, leaning back against the couch. Only centimeters between them. Yuugi opened his mouth, then closed it, then told himself he was being silly and opened it again.

“Mou hitori no boku?”

In a second, his other self’s attention was back on him, sitting up straight. Somehow he managed to look both sharp and soft all at once.

“Aibou?”

Yuugi swallowed. “Could I … try something?”

“Of course,” his other self replied. No hesitation. Not even a _question._ Would there ever be anyone else who trusted him so completely?

Yuugi shifted so he faced his other self in full, and his other self mimicked his actions, ever patient, ever curious. Even as Yuugi struggled with himself, he waited, never pressing him, just watching him with gentle eyes. Eyes that had threatened, eyes that had punished, eyes that had frightened away monsters. Eyes that looked at him with pure admiration.

With a trembling breath, Yuugi lifted his hand. Paused. Moved it forward. Hesitated again.

Then, gathering up all his courage, he laid his palm over the back of his other self’s hand where it rested on the cushions between them.

His brain stuttered.

Solid. Warm. _Alive._

He jerked his head up to meet his other self’s eyes, and his other self stared back, Yuugi’s expression mirrored on his face in such perfect detail it should have been scary. Yuugi’s mouth felt dry, the sensation of warm skin against his practically choking him. He forced himself to swallow, to open his mouth, to form the words growing on his tongue.

“Mou hitori no—”

His other self grabbed his hand, cutting the words off in his throat. With almost frantic curiosity, yet even more gentle care, he cradled Yuugi’s right hand in both of his own and stared at it like an archaeologist might stare at a life-changing artifact. He brushed his fingers over Yuugi’s knuckles, lips parted, eyes wide, so gentle it tickled.

Then he brought his hand up to touch Yuugi’s cheek. It was more like a whisper than an actual touch, so light and careful, as if Yuugi were made of thin glass and might shatter if he pressed too hard. Yuugi found himself leaning into it in silent reassurance. His other self smiled and ran the same soft fingers over his forehead, around his eyes, down his nose, even tracing his lips. His eyes followed each movement with the same wonder, the same fascination he wore when he examined a new Duel Monsters card, but with ten times more emotion.

As he pulled back at last, Yuugi’s hand twitched, but he hesitated, eyes wandering over his other self’s face, searching, biting the inside of his lip. His other self stared back with wondrous eyes. Eyes that had scarcely been so gentle since the first day Yuugi saw them.

With a deep breath, Yuugi lifted his hand and laid it on his other self’s arm.

His other self tensed again, though not as hard as before. His surprise lasted only a second before he relaxed, a hint of a smile curling the corners of his mouth. Yuugi ran his hand over the smooth, baby-new skin of his arm, over his wrist, down to his knuckles, before he lifted his hand away.

He touched his other’s face as he had felt his own face touched, and he swore those sharp violet eyes softened with each movement. Not a single flinch. No hesitation. He would have closed his eyes and trusted that Yuugi would never hurt him.

No one should have that much trust. But Yuugi couldn’t find it in him not to appreciate it.

He ran his fingers over the spiked hair that should have been so familiar—so similar to his own—yet felt so incredibly foreign. Bangs that spiked up into the black and magenta. His other self lifted his own hands to brush Yuugi’s hair, tucking a stray strand behind his ear, slipping through the black roots with care. It struck Yuugi, for a split second, that this should be weird, but it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. This was his other self.

His hand slid down to his other self’s cheek, the skin just as new, if slightly warmer than that on his arm. The other boy blinked, slower, eyes drooping just a bit. He looked like a toddler who had crawled into his mother’s lap for a story, and had forgotten about the story in favor of her stroking his hair and rubbing his back.

Yuugi bit the inside of his lip and tried not to let it show. His other self didn’t even know what that felt like. To be held by someone so much bigger, someone who would protect you and care for you, cradle you and rock you to sleep. He had no memories of the casual touches so typical of childhood. He had Yuugi’s memories, the ones Yuugi had promised to share, but memories of his own? He had high-fives and handshakes and claps on the back and maybe a one-armed hug here and there. And that was it.

And suddenly, all Yuugi’s hesitation disappeared. He threw himself forward and wrapped his arms around his other self like he might a small, abandoned child, squeezing him so hard it must have hurt and pressing his face into the bony shoulder so like his own.

He was here. He was _real._ This was real and he could touch him and hold onto him and feel him _right here_ beside him. He wanted to cry, and a sob worked its way out of his throat, even as his eyes remained dry. Thousands of thoughts, thousands of feelings raced through his veins, choking him, overwhelming him, drowning him, but he never wanted it to end. A shivering breath escaped his other self’s lips before he squeezed Yuugi in return, tighter by the second, so tight it almost hurt but he didn’t care. Both their hearts were beating and their lungs were filling with air and they were _alive_ and—

“Yuugi! Are you still up?”

The bubble that had surrounded them, separating them from the rest of the world, shattered like glass, Jii-chan’s voice reminding Yuugi far too much of a baseball thrown through a window. Accidentally, but with the same effect.

He pulled back as his other self shifted away, though without any of the awkwardness that Yuugi might have expected. By the time Jii-chan stepped into the living room, they had put a few centimeters of space between them, the same that had been there before. Jii-chan looked over them, his eyes still wide at seeing two versions of grandson side by side, but smiling nonetheless.

“I thought you’d be in bed by now, after such a long day.”

Yuugi forced a smile onto his face—it wasn’t hard, as he was far from unhappy, though it felt like his brain needed to be rebooted. “We were just about to head up, Jii-chan.”

Jii-chan nodded, then turned to his other self.

“I set the guest room up for you, Yuugi. Er, the new Yuugi.”

He frowned a bit at his own confusion, taking a second to be sure he was talking to the right one. Yuugi’s other self smiled and nodded.

“Thank you. Jii-chan.”

Jii-chan just smiled back.

The two of them went upstairs, after saying their goodnights. Yuugi led his other self to the bathroom, and together they brushed their teeth. At his other self’s insistence, Yuugi changed into his pajamas first, then went into his bedroom to pull back his covers while his other self took his turn. Only a minute later, he heard the bathroom door open with a slight creak, and turned around just in time to see his other self step into his doorway from the hall.

It had been odd to see him in pajamas last night and this morning, but now, it took all Yuugi had not to laugh. Or maybe smile like he smiled when Anzu showed him a picture of a cute puppy.

His other self stood just inside his bedroom, dressed in the same sleeveless shirt and drawstring pants—and the Puzzle, still hanging around his neck—rubbing an eye with one hand while the other hung limp at his side. _Yawning._

It was very, very hard to believe that this was the same person who had once gladly played shadow games and set people on fire.

Yuugi bit back the laugh that tried to work its way up his throat and managed a smile instead. “Tired?”

“Mm,” his other self hummed. If he had noticed Yuugi’s suppressed snickers, he said nothing about it.

“Jii-chan was right. We’ve both had a long day,” Yuugi replied. He ran his teeth over his bottom lip, suddenly awkward as the two of them stood there in perfect silence. “Does your bed look okay?”

A nod. “It looks fine. Jii-chan put extra blankets on the bed.”

Yuugi nodded back, a little too jerkily.

“That’s good. I mean, it’s summer, so it shouldn’t get cold, but just in case.” His other self said nothing. Yuugi shifted to one foot, then the other, then offered what he hoped was a gentle smile. “Well … I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Sleep well.”

For several seconds, his other self just watched him, his tired eyes completely lucid. He didn’t smile back, but his eyes smiled for him.

“You too, aibou.”

The silence returned. It hovered around them, circling them, flowing between them like an ocean. It nudged Yuugi, again and again, but try as he might he couldn’t figure out what it wanted. He didn’t move, and his other self didn’t either.

And just as he thought he might need to say something else—maybe his other self needed something before he went to bed, maybe he wanted a glass of water but wasn’t sure how to ask for it, maybe his room was too hot, maybe he was hungry—his other self turned around, stepping into the hall.

He paused, looking over his shoulder to meet Yuugi’s eyes one more time. Now, he smiled, just a bit, his tired eyes filled with too many emotions for Yuugi to read even if he had had a year to try.

Then he closed the door behind him, his footsteps padding away down the hall, and Yuugi was left alone.

 

*

 

Yami had been staring at the ceiling for the past hour, and he was pretty sure he had memorized every imperfection, but he was no closer to falling asleep.

It hadn’t been this hard last night. It hadn’t been hard at _all_ last night. He had simply closed his eyes and sleep had come. He had assumed sleep always came so easily. It wasn’t like he had anything other than Aibou’s memories to compare it to. He had never slept in the body before. The last time he had slept, presumably, had been in Egypt.

He didn’t count sleeping in the Puzzle. There, it was more like resting, and it felt completely different.

He shifted for the fifth time in the past ten minutes, according to the glowing digital clock beside the bed. It wasn’t too hot or too cold. The bed was just cushy enough to be comfortable. And he had certainly been tired enough when he said goodnight to Aibou.

Yet every time he closed his eyes, he felt like he was waking up in Ironheart’s tent after passing out in the train crash.

Aibou’s loss weighing fresh on his mind.

Aibou. He was just down the hall, wasn’t he? He was safe. He was _fine._ He wasn’t even that far away. But to Yami, it felt like kilometers. It felt like continents. Worlds.

He shut his eyes, gritted his teeth, and huffed.

Before he could even recognize what he was doing, he had thrown off the blankets, climbed out of the bed, and crossed the bedroom to open the door.

This was ridiculous. He had faced opponents with his life on the line, with _everyone’s_ lives on the line, and he had come out on top. He had conquered challenges that had seemed impossible, even for him. He should be able to fall asleep by himself.

Except that he had only fallen asleep once, other than being knocked out, and he hadn’t been alone.

Yes, this was definitely silly, he told himself as he tip-toed down the dark hall, avoiding the squeaky spots on the floor, until he reached Aibou’s door. But that didn’t stop him from laying a hand on the knob and pressing his ear to the wood. He thought he heard breathing, faint, too faint to distinguish. He gritted his teeth. Then, with the utmost care, he turned the knob and pushed open the door, just slow enough to avoid the creaking of the hinges.

He stepped inside, berating himself all the while. What was the point of this? What was he going to do? He had vague memories of Aibou going to his parents—or Jii-chan, more often—when he was younger and had had a nightmare. But Yami hadn’t had a nightmare, and he wasn’t five years old.

Only as he pushed the door shut behind him with just as much care as he had opened it did he notice that he was being watched.

He spun around, instantly wide awake and alert, ready for any threat, one hand already reaching for a deck that wasn’t strapped to his side, the other clutching the Puzzle he had never taken off.

Two wide, violet eyes stared at him from the bed by the wall, as their owner pushed himself up, the covers falling down to his waist.

“Mou hitori no boku?” Aibou murmured, loud enough to be heard across the room, and far more lucid than Yami would have expected, if he had actually been asleep before Yami came in.

Yami gripped his arms, shifting his weight from foot to foot as inconspicuously as he could. He couldn’t remember ever being so fidgety.

“Aibou.”

He wasn’t sure what sort of response he was expecting. This was so new, looking at him solid from across the room, while he could _feel_ the carpet beneath his bare feet, the exhaustion in his limbs, the beating of his heart. There was no precedent for this. He was walking in the dark.

But only seconds later, his aibou smiled.

“You too?”

Yami blinked, then licked his lips and nodded. “Mm.”

Aibou hummed, sitting up further in bed.

“It’s funny,” he said. “I … know it’s silly, I slept just fine for fifteen years before—but now …”

He sighed. Yami started to lift his foot, and he wasn’t sure whether he meant to step forward or back. He glanced at the door.

“Do you want me to go—”

“No!” Aibou cut in, loud enough to make Yami freeze. He blinked. Aibou blinked. Then he bit his lip and looked down at his hands. “You can … if you … god, this feels so weird! It’s not you, it’s just … I …”

Aibou didn’t say anything else. But he didn’t need to. Even without the link, even with this distance that felt like a gaping chasm between them, Yami knew.

He crossed the room without a word, and Aibou’s mouth hung open, frozen. Yami paused at the side of the bed, staring down at the boy whose body he had worn too many times to count. Was that what he had looked like before? Was that what he looked like now? So small, so thin, so fragile and vulnerable and the most important, wonderful thing he had ever seen?

Aibou closed his mouth and swallowed, shifting his gaze down to the mattress below him.

Yami took off the Puzzle and laid it on the nightstand. Then he pulled back the covers as Aibou scooted back toward the wall. Yami slipped in and laid down on his back, head turned toward Aibou, their faces only centimeters apart. For more than a minute, they stayed there, watching each other, not speaking or even smiling, just blinking and breathing. With the utmost care, Yami slid his arm around Aibou’s waist, tugging him closer until their sides touched. He rested his head right above his shoulder, close enough to feel Aibou’s collarbone against his chin. Aibou never protested, never tried to pull away. As Yami tangled their limbs together, Aibou nestled closer still, letting out a tiny, content sigh. Yami swallowed the lump deep in his throat, and it did not come back.

Something clicked into place. Something deep inside him, nameless, instinctual, something that had poked at him before and which now screamed _complete._

Should he have been embarrassed? More hesitant? Aibou had seemed so uncertain about touching him before, as if there were something strange about it. Some part of Yami’s brain, the part that had soaked up modern Japanese customs but only assimilated the ones that suited his tastes, told him that this was more than odd. That he should go back to his own bed. That he should brave the night alone.

But that part of his brain was a whisper in comparison to the shout that told him to stay.

This was his aibou. He had always been with him, since the beginning.

And right now, nothing else in the world mattered.

He tightened his grip, felt the soft cotton, the shoulder under his chin, the warmth of his skin through the fabric. He listened to every breath from Aibou’s lips, and swore he could hear the beating of his heart. When he closed his eyes, he inhaled the scent he had never noticed before, never noticed because it had been _his_ scent whenever he had a physical body. Fabric softener and dusty board games and Duel Monsters cards and warm, sunny days.

Yes. Everything was alright.

In only minutes, his mind began to drift and fade, his thoughts jumbling, his breath slowing. But he never let go of the body pressed against his, only shifting closer to the Light as he tumbled into sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

The first thing Yuugi noticed when he dragged himself from sleep the next morning was warm breath gusting against his ear.

He stiffened. Did Jounouchi-kun sleep over? Had he sleepwalked and fallen into Yuugi’s bed? No, he had never done that before, even though Yuugi _knew_ he sleepwalked. It couldn’t be Honda-kun, he talked in his sleep sometimes, but otherwise he was a rock once he passed out. Anzu? No, no, Anzu _definitely_ wouldn’t have done that. So who—

Then he remembered.

Thin arms and legs wrapped around him, trapping him in place, but he managed to turn his head just enough to see his other self’s face, settled only centimeters away from his on the pillow. His brow, so often creased in concentration or anger, had smoothed out completely, his lips parted, a tiny smile curving them up even in his sleep.

Yuugi had never seen him look more content. And as he noticed each point of contact between them, the warmth, the pulse, the _life_ of another body nestled against his own, he couldn’t help but smile, too.

He couldn’t turn to look at the clock, but by the sun shining through his window, he guessed it was already mid-morning. He didn’t smell anything burning, so either Jii-chan had chosen to heat up leftovers today or he wasn’t awake either. Yuugi settled back on the pillow, eyes wide open. He doubted he would fall back asleep. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to wake his other self up just yet.

After all, it was Sunday. Laying here a little longer wouldn’t hurt.

So he lay there, silent and still, watching the patterns cast by the sun on his quilt and the way his other self’s hair flattened where it met the pillow. He counted the seconds each breath took him and tried to count the beats of his heart. Every tiny detail, everything he knew he should appreciate right now, while he had the chance.

He paid such close attention that it was impossible not to notice when his other self’s brow creased, his lips pursed as if in irritation. Or focus. Yuugi watched, silent, for a good minute until his other self began to mumble, incoherent syllables that Yuugi couldn’t make out no matter how he strained his ears.

Another minute, and his curiosity had grown too much for him to ignore.

“Mou hitori no boku?” he asked, barely louder than a whisper.

His other self hummed and shifted against him.

“Mm … ‘tack …”

Yuugi blinked. What? He pushed himself up a little, not enough to jar his other self but enough to see his face. No. That couldn’t be it. His other self was _not_ dreaming about—

“Mou hitori no …?”

Another shift. Another grumble as his other self’s arms tightened around him, the leg he had hooked over Yuugi’s curling more fully.

“Attack … Eyes …” he murmured. “… your move, Kaiba …”

And that was all it took.

Yuugi burst out laughing so hard it hurt, the sound echoing around the room and his whole body shaking as he struggled to breathe. His other self groaned, eyes blinking open, but Yuugi didn’t care. He couldn’t even _think._ Because every time he tried he remembered why he was laughing, and he laughed harder still.

“Aibou …?” his other self murmured, and Yuugi almost choked as he forced himself to shake his head.

“It’s … it’s nothing … mou hitori no b-boku …”

His other self sat up further, and Yuugi didn’t dare turn to look at his face. “Aibou, are you … laughing?”

Yuugi covered his mouth, but his cheeks already felt completely red, his eyes squeezed shut to hide the tears leaking out of them.

He was okay. He was fine. He just needed to stop imagining his other self sleep-dueling Kaiba-kun.

After what felt like several minutes, he finally managed to breathe again, letting out an occasional chuckle until, finally, those stopped as well. He panted for another half-minute, wiping away his stray tears. At last, his breathing settled, and he looked back up.

His other self frowned, a little too much like a pout.

Then he flopped back on the bed, wrapped his arms around Yuugi’s waist, and dragged him down beside him. Before Yuugi could even squeak in surprise, his other self had nuzzled his face into his hair, his breath slowing, as if he had already fallen back asleep.

Yuugi smiled, watching him out of the corner of his eye, his chest swelling with fondness. Then he sighed.

“Mou hitori no boku, we have to get up.”

His other self just held him tighter, his face all but buried now, so close to Yuugi’s head it was a wonder he didn’t suffocate. Yuugi laughed, but didn’t protest. It was still Sunday, after all, and his other self was bound to be tired after his first full day, even though he seemed to have slept through the night.

Besides, Yuugi was comfortable. It was far warmer under the covers than out, and the solid, living body next to his was enough reason for him to get a bit more sleep.

Just as his eyes began to close, his phone buzzed from its place charging on his desk.

Yuugi blinked. Then, without pausing to convince his other self to let go, he sat up and climbed out of bed. His other self clung at first, even let himself be dragged, but he let go with a faint whine before he fell off the mattress. Yuugi snatched up his phone, almost yanking the cord out of the wall, and brought it to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Yuugi?” a voice asked, barely loud enough to cover the overwhelming chatter in the background.

Yuugi straightened. “Ishizu-san?”

“Yes. Our plane just landed. I expect we’ll be at our hotel in about an hour, if you and your friends would like to meet us there.”

Yuugi blinked, then blinked again. He glanced at his other self, still sitting on the edge of the bed, somehow managing to rub his eyes and keep them sharply trained on Yuugi at the same time.

“Y-you’re already here?” Yuugi stammered.

“Yes, we were able to find an earlier flight.”

“… ‘we’?”

“Yes,” Ishizu-san replied, and he wasn’t sure if he heard confusion or a smile of amusement in her tone. “I expected Malik would insist on coming, and of course, where Malik goes, Rishid is never far behind.”

She said it with such gentle fondness that Yuugi couldn’t help but smile, even as his sleepy brain struggled to keep up.

“Oh. Right,” he managed. “So, um, where’s the hotel?”

She gave him the address, and only as she finished did he think to grab a pen and paper from his desk and jot it down. A minute later, they both hung up. Yuugi set his phone back down and turned to face his other self, still watching him from the bed.

“Well,” he started, with a tired sigh and a smile. “I guess we’d better call the others.”

 

*

 

Anzu was already awake, but Yuugi had to call their cell phones three times before Jounouchi-kun and Honda-kun finally picked up, Jounouchi-kun still half-asleep, and Honda-kun launching into a rant against telemarketers before he realized it was Yuugi.

They met up an hour later close to the hotel Ishizu-san had named, and though Anzu somehow managed to look impeccable, if a little bit rushed, when she arrived, Jounouchi-kun and Honda-kun looked like they had rolled out of bed, thrown on the first set of clothes they saw, shoveled some food into their mouths, and run to meet them. Which was probably exactly what they had done.

Together, they walked the rest of the way, and stepped into the lobby of a relatively fancy hotel. It wasn’t the most expensive by far—Yuugi figured Kaiba-kun would have stuck his nose up at it—but he still marveled at the shine on the marble floors, the well-dressed bellhops and receptionists, and the even more well-dressed people who sat on the nearby couches and strolled through the doors behind them. After a minute, Yuugi began to wonder whether he should call Ishizu-san’s cell phone, if maybe she hadn’t known when they would arrive.

Then he saw the three figures come out of the elevator.

It hadn’t been all that long since Battle City, even though it seemed a world away, and he shouldn’t have been surprised to find that all three siblings looked exactly the same. In outward appearance, at least. Ishizu-san still wore her linen dress, Rishid had switched to another, similar cloak, and Malik apparently hadn’t stopped favoring sleeveless jackets and cargo pants.

But their faces had changed. Even from a distance, Malik looked far more like the teenager he really was as he chatted enthusiastically to Rishid—in Arabic, by the sounds of it—and Rishid listened and nodded and responded with far more calm. Ishizu-san walked in silence, but Yuugi could see the smile on her face, softer than any she had worn in the midst of Battle City, as she struggled to fulfill her destiny and save her little brother from himself.

Yuugi beamed, and turned to find his other self smiling as well, an odd gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. As if he could finally see the results of how hard he had worked, and the mercy he had shown.

Malik was the first to turn and see them. His whole face lit up, and he raised a hand and waved high above his head.

“Yuugi! Everyone!”

He broke into a run across the lobby just as his brother and sister noticed the group near the front doors. Only when he got a few meters away did he slow, his eyes on Yuugi and his other self, shifting back and forth between them with wide eyes.

“Wow, so … it’s true. You’re … in separate bodies now.”

Yuugi looked at his other self, and his other self looked back. Then they turned to Malik and smiled.

“Good to see you again, Malik,” Yuugi said. “Did you have a good flight?”

They headed out of the hotel a minute later with Ishizu-san and Rishid, Malik giving the whole group a very detailed recount of the flight, including the man two rows back who snored louder than a motorboat and the small child who had insisted on playing twenty consecutive rounds of rock-paper-scissors with him before she got bored and went back to her seat.

At first, Yuugi thought they were going somewhere in particular, perhaps the museum. But he knew the path to the museum, and this wasn’t it, and after a few minutes, he guessed that Malik had simply wanted to walk around a bit after such a long flight, and Ishizu-san and Rishid had decided to indulge him.

As Malik ranted on about all the food he had eaten and magazines he had read on the plane, Anzu turned to his sister.

“You think you can figure this out, Ishizu-san?” she asked.

Ishizu-san smiled and nodded. “I believe so, Anzu. There is no guarantee that the origin of the magic used was Egyptian, but the chances are very high if someone intentionally targeted the pharaoh.”

Yuugi glanced at his other self, who remained at his side, quiet, having only spoken to greet the Ishtars back in the lobby. He looked back with unreadable eyes, his brow creased with interest and suspicion, as it did whenever a new mystery appeared.

Soon, hopefully, they would get answers.

“Yuugi—er, Pharaoh?”

Yuugi and his other self turned in such perfect synchrony it would have been disturbing, if Yuugi hadn’t expected it. They both blinked to find Malik just a step behind them, his eagerness from before faded, replaced by something solemn and almost ashamed.

“Malik?” his other self replied.

Malik glanced at his siblings, then at Yuugi, then slowed his pace and motioned for Yuugi’s other self to follow him to the back of the group. Yuugi looked at his other self, and his other self looked back, and without a word, the latter followed Malik, leaving Yuugi to walk ahead, staying just close enough so he could make out what was said.

After a few moments’ pause, Malik cleared his throat.

“I wanted to take the opportunity to … I know I said it before, but … now that things have calmed down … I wanted to apologize. Properly. For everything I did,” he said, his voice tinged with the same regret, the same pain Yuugi had heard at the end of Battle City, less raw and more timid. “I know nothing I say or do can truly make up for the damage I’ve done.”

He went silent, and Yuugi risked a glance over his shoulder to find him bowing his head even as he continued to walk, his eyes closed as he awaited what he seemed to view as final judgment.

Yuugi’s other self turned to face him, lost, floundering, searching Yuugi’s eyes for answers. And even though Yuugi didn’t speak, he seemed to find them. The tension in his shoulders fell, and he turned back to Malik with a nod.

“What’s done is done. We’ve all forgiven you. And we’re grateful for your help.”

Malik’s head shot up, eyes wide. In seconds, he broke out into a wide grin, giving another quick bow before standing tall once more.

“Thank you, Pharaoh. I promise I’ll do all I can to help you. Just tell me what I can do!”

His other self just nodded again, a tiny smile on his lips. The professional, amicable smile he wore after a duel with someone he had slowly grown to respect. His eyes flicked again to Yuugi, and they softened, his smile a bit wider. Yuugi beamed.

He moved ahead in the group, past his three friends—who had apparently started telling Rishid about all the best restaurants nearby—and toward Ishizu-san, where she walked at the front of the group. “How has Malik been, Ishizu-san?”

Ishizu-san sighed.

“He has been trying very hard to make things right,” she started, a residual ache in her voice that he doubted would go away anytime soon. “He doesn’t have an official job—he really is young enough to be in school, but I doubt he could manage that at this point—so he spends most of his time either helping me at the museum or dismantling all the networks of Ghouls. It will … take a while, I’m sure, and the Ghouls operate independently enough now that he won’t be able to completely take them down. But he’s doing his best.”

Her face softened, and she turned to him with another of her quiet smiles.

“I must thank you again. We wouldn’t be here now if not for all of you.”

Yuugi felt his cheeks flush. Though she had thanked all of them, she looked at him, even though it was his other self who had won that final game.

“It’s nothing,” he replied. “We really appreciate you coming here on such short notice.”

Ishizu-san shook her head. “It’s the least I can do to repay you.”

Yuugi blushed harder and murmured something about it not being necessary, but couldn’t bring himself to say anything else.

A minute later, Jounouchi-kun finally slipped away from his conversation—one-sided as it had likely been—with Rishid and turned to the rest of the group.

“So how do you like being in Japan as a tourist, Mal—where’d he go?”

His eager smile faded when he didn’t find the white-haired teenager anywhere among them. Ishizu-san tensed, and all seven of them stopped. Yuugi looked over his shoulder to find his other self right behind him, equally confused, apparently having left Malik’s side at some point when Yuugi wasn’t paying attention.

But Rishid’s eyes immediately focused ten or so meters behind them, on the grass near a small park. One by one, they followed his gaze.

“Malik,” Ishizu-san murmured, with a mixture of relief, irritation, and something like affection.

Honda-kun stared. “Is he …?”

Malik had crouched down where the grass met the sidewalk, and seemed entirely unaware of the rest of the world, or the fact that his friends and siblings had left him behind, as he petted a small, fluffy white dog. The dog licked at his hand each time he paused, and Malik just laughed and pet it more.

Yuugi and his other self exchanged incredulous glances, but Yuugi couldn’t help but smile.

Rishid did the same.

“Maste—Malik has been trying to convince Ishizu to let him get a dog for the past two weeks, ever since he found one that likes to hang around outside the museum.”

Jounouchi-kun and Honda-kun gawked, but before they could speak, Ishizu-san sighed so hard it almost counted as a huff. “I’ve _told_ him that we’re still getting settled into living together as a family, and once we’re following a regular routine, we can consider it.” She shook her head. “He can’t even decide on what kind of dog he wants.”

“I told you I could take care of Hakim!” Malik broke in, and Yuugi jerked his head to find that he had finally left the dog and was walking up to rejoin them, arms crossed over his chest. “He’s already well-trained, and he doesn’t have a home.”

“Hakim?” Anzu repeated.

“That’s what he named the stray outside the museum,” Rishid said.

Malik’s brow creased. “He’s not a stray, Brother! I’m taking care of him.”

Yuugi might have been imagining it, but he swore Rishid smiled just a bit wider when Malik called him “Brother.”

Ishizu-san gave another long-suffering sigh, yet one filled with deep fondness.

“He’s still a stray, Malik.”

Malik poked out his bottom lip and groaned, and Yuugi couldn’t think of anything else to call it but a pout. “Sister …”

Ishizu-san shook her head, but her lips curled up at the same time, as much as she tried to hide it.

“We can talk about it more later. But now, we need to help the pharaoh and Yuugi,” she said. “We should go to the Domino Museum first. The tablet may not be there, but I remember a great deal of scans of ancient documents from the storage room. We can start there.”

Anzu blinked, eyes wide with surprise.

“But Ishizu-san, you just got here! You should rest after such a long flight!”

Ishizu-san smiled a bit wider. “Thank you for your concern, Anzu, but—”

“Yeah, Sister, we don’t have to start right away, do we?” Malik cut in, a little too eagerly.

She lifted one eyebrow.

“Malik, that’s why we came. If you don’t want to help, you’re free to go back to the hotel.”

Malik bit his lip, hesitating.

“Actually, I agree with Malik,” Jounouchi-kun added, and the whole group turned to face him. He shrugged. “I mean, if something bad hasn’t happened yet, I doubt it’ll happen in the next few hours. Right, Yuugi?”

Yuugi blinked. “Well, I feel fine. Mou hitori no boku?”

His other self paused, as if checking himself over—then took twice as long to look over Yuugi—before nodding. “I don’t think it would do any harm.”

Malik’s eyes lit up. Jounouchi-kun grinned.

“Besides, I haven’t had lunch yet!” he went on, and suddenly his intrusion made far too much sense. He had forgiven Malik, as had the rest of them—despite his murmured comment yesterday—but he was still a virtual stranger, and this level of attentive concern was a little odd. “Can’t do any ancient document research on an empty stomach!”

Anzu rolled her eyes. “Jounouchi, didn’t you have breakfast an hour ago?”

Jounouchi-kun kept smiling. “Yeah, but it wasn’t a _good_ breakfast. C’mon, these guys haven’t even seen Domino yet.” He paused, smile slipping, suddenly awkward. “Not … for fun, anyway.”

Silence fell over them all for a good ten seconds. Malik avoided meeting anyone’s eyes.

“I … knew the city fairly well while I was here, out of necessity, but I’ve never explored it before.”

Yuugi opened his mouth, then closed it again. He doubted any sort of comfort he could offer would help. He couldn’t say it was okay—because what Malik had done had been horrible, even if it was behind them, even if he was trying to fix his mistakes—and he suspected anything he said to reassure him had already been said.

It was Anzu who broke the silence at last, smiling in her usual sympathetic manner. “Well, how about we get something to eat so Jounouchi stops complaining, then we’ll give you guys a tour.”

Malik and Rishid both smiled, Malik’s a good deal wider, though still somewhat reserved. Ishizu-san, ever-focused on business, hesitated. But a moment later, she looked at her brothers, at the excitement brimming in the younger of the two, and smiled as well. She nodded.

“I think that would be very nice.”

Apparently, despite spending a fair amount of time in Japan and even speaking the language, none of the Ishtars had much experience with Japanese food. Anzu was all too glad to pick out a nice hole-in-the-wall place with local cuisine, taking the time to explain any items on the menu they didn’t recognize—particularly as both Malik and Rishid had only learned the kanji relevant to ancient Egyptian history or Duel Monsters. Jounouchi-kun and Malik got into several discussions about the differences between Egyptian and Japanese food, while Yuugi’s other self jumped in as soon as the conversation turned to their favorite cards.

Rishid and Ishizu-san spoke very little, but never looked at all unhappy with their self-imposed exclusion from the conversation. They watched their brother with the same small smiles, and Yuugi found himself struck by how recent Battle City had really been. How little time the three of them had actually spent together as a family.

After lunch, Yuugi and his friends took turns showing the siblings parts of Domino that they wouldn’t have seen during Battle City, little card shops and boutiques, the park where Yuugi’s other self avoided the birds at all costs. Bit by bit, the Ishtars relaxed, Malik smiling more than ever, and the way Ishizu-san watched him suggested both fondness and pain, like an old memory dug up despite how she tried to bury it. Yuugi didn’t ask, and she said nothing about it.

By two-thirty that afternoon, their pace had begun to slow—and Jounouchi-kun and Honda-kun began to grumble about getting a snack. The conversation had wound down to silence that lasted for minutes at a time, and though he showed no outward signs of it, Yuugi began to wonder if his other self was tired after so much walking around in just one day.

So he was a little bit grateful when Ishizu-san nodded, almost deeply enough to be called a bow, as they turned the corner.

“Thank you very much for the tour, everyone,” she said. “But I think we should be heading to the museum. I don’t think they stay open very late on Sundays, and as I’m no longer currently collaborating with them, I don’t have special clearance. We can take a look around and let you know tomorrow if we’ve found anything. If there’s nothing here, there are several other museums I can contact.”

Yuugi bowed in return. “Thank you so much, Ishizu-san.”

Ishizu-san just nodded again, smiling a bit wider. She turned to walk away, glancing toward her brothers.

“Malik, Rishid, let’s go.”

Rishid followed her without a second’s pause, but Malik hesitated. Yuugi hadn’t noticed until now how his smile had fallen in apparent disappointment, like a small child that had been told he had to leave the park after only ten minutes. But he didn’t protest, and started after his siblings with his eyes on the ground.

Yuugi bit his lip, then lifted his hand to get their attention.

“Actually, Ishizu-san, I was wondering if Malik might like to spend the evening with us at the game shop,” he called. The three of them stopped, turning to face him, and he felt his friends staring as well. He smiled. “Since there isn’t anything to do yet and we can’t help, we thought we’d play video games, maybe some board games, just hang out.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Malik’s lips, his eyes almost glowing.

“Really?”

Yuugi glanced around at his friends, and though they still looked surprised, none seemed to disapprove. He turned back to Malik and shrugged. “Well, unless there’s something you need to be doing. We wouldn’t want to pull you away from anything imp—”

“No, no, there’s nothing!” Malik cut in. He turned to face Ishizu-san, grinning. “There isn’t anything, is there, Sister?”

Ishizu-san hesitated. “Are you sure that would be alright, Yuugi?”

Yuugi smiled wider. “Yeah!”

“Of course!” Anzu added.

Yuugi’s other self nodded. “Mm.”

Ishizu-san looked at them all one more time, then smiled back. She nodded.

“Alright, then, Malik. Just be back to the hotel by nine.”

If Malik had smiled any wider, it probably would have split his face in half. It was still a little strange to look at it—a smile that wide with no malicious glee—but Yuugi knew he would get used to it. He felt his chest warm at the sight, then paused, turning to the two siblings who watched their younger brother with fond eyes.

“If you want to come, too, Ishizu-san, Rishid …”

But Ishizu-san shook her head. “No, thank you, Yuugi. I really do need to get started on this research.”

Rishid nodded. “I appreciate the invitation, but … Malik, will you be alright by yourself?”

Malik’s smile softened.

“I’ll be fine, Ri—Brother.”

Rishid’s own smile grew. It was never a wide grin—and it probably never would be, with his soft-spoken personality—but it spoke louder than any words he could have picked.

“Then I’ll stay and help Ishizu,” he said. “Have a good time, Malik. Be careful walking back.”

Malik just beamed.

Ishizu-san and Rishid started toward the Domino Museum, and the rest of them headed toward the game shop, chatting the whole way there.

They spent the afternoon exploring the board games Jii-chan had recently gotten in and playing two that allowed for six players, Yuugi winning the first and his other self winning the second, to no one’s surprise. They ordered takeout for dinner—Yuugi _really_ wasn’t going to risk Jii-chan trying to cook for four extra people—and ate it on the living room floor for lack of space at the kitchen table. Then Yuugi dug out his collection of video games and explained some of his favorites, going through only four before Malik snatched up the _The_ _Legend of Zelda_ , which he had apparently seen advertised, and insisted they play it. Everyone agreed.

Anzu took a seat on the couch to watch first, claiming she would take her turn once they got past the initial levels. “I’ve played this game four times through with Yuugi,” she said, smirking when Jounouchi-kun tried to accuse her of chickening out. “If you get stuck, I’ll handle it.”

Jounouchi-kun stared. Yuugi laughed.

He and his other self sat near Anzu while Honda-kun and Jounouchi-kun flopped down on either side of Malik on the floor, closer to the TV. After some debate, Malik got the controller first, with the argument from Anzu that he was the newest guest and that everyone else could play this game once he went back to Egypt.

They booted up the game and got started, and as Yuugi probably should have expected, it took only five minutes for the shouting to begin.

“Malik, what are you doing?” Jounouchi-kun asked, incredulous. “You keep walking into a wall!”

Malik pressed a few more buttons, his face pinched in determination. His character ran into the wall again. “Well, how am I supposed to move?”

“With the arrows, right there!”

Malik looked down at his controller. He blinked.

“Oh … I didn’t notice those,” he murmured. “I was trying to play with the ones in the front.”

Jounouchi-kun stared. “Haven’t you ever played a video game before?”

“… no.”

A blink. Jounouchi-kun looked away, suddenly sheepish. “Oh.”

Anzu rolled her eyes. “ _Real_ smooth, Jounouchi.”

Jounouchi-kun coughed. Honda-kun scooted forward, shoving him out of the way to sit in his place at Malik’s side.

“Here, I’ll show you the basics,” he said, pulling the controller toward him. “Trust me, it’s easy. See this button here?”

In five minutes, Malik had gotten the hang of the controls and what they made the character do, and he and Jounouchi-kun were arguing over whether he should keep looking for items to collect or move on to the next task.

Anzu shook her head, flashing Yuugi and his other self a quick smile before going back to watching the antics of the three boys in front of the TV.

They played for a full two and a half hours, until Malik finally looked at the clock and told them he had to be getting back to the hotel. Yuugi almost fell off the couch when he realized how late it had gotten, especially since he and his friends had to get up for school the next day. They found the closest save point on the game—Honda-kun had just gotten them onto a new level—and Jounouchi-kun and Honda-kun walked with Malik down the road, still debating who had played the best. Yuugi doubted they would stop until they had to split up to get back to their own homes.

Neither Anzu, nor Yuugi or his other self had gotten a turn. But on her way out, Anzu whispered to the two of them that she had taken several dozen photos and audio clips of the three boys’ most embarrassing moments on her phone, and promised to send them to Yuugi when she got home.

Thirty minutes later, Yuugi and his other self were sitting on the bed, laughing so hard their stomachs hurt as a recording of Jounouchi-kun, Honda-kun and Malik all trying to mimic the tiny fairy Navi’s voice played on Yuugi’s phone.

When they fell asleep, it was with smiles still on their faces, and the thoughts of ancient magic and enemies and threats tucked safely away in the backs of their heads.

They could wait until tomorrow.


	6. Chapter 6

As much as Aibou wanted to stay home on Monday, Yami insisted that he wouldn’t have him missing any more school on his behalf. He had missed far too much due to tournaments and trips, and he really couldn’t afford more absences. Aibou had rushed about all morning, making sure he had plenty of TV shows to watch, video games to play, a movie collection that probably would have lasted him two weeks if he had them playing nonstop, and enough novels and manga to make a small library.

None of it made Aibou’s absence easier, but Yami couldn’t help but be touched by the thought.

As soon as he got home, the two of them headed out to meet their friends. Anzu had apparently called Ishizu over lunch and asked if they could talk with her about her findings, and on Ishizu’s suggestion, they were meeting at a restaurant. Of course, Jounouchi-kun and Honda-kun refused to be left out, and Yami had a feeling that Malik and Rishid would come as well.

When they reached the restaurant and saw the three figures waiting for them inside, his guess was confirmed.

Jounouchi-kun, Honda-kun and Anzu arrived shortly after, and the eight of them managed to find a booth large enough for them all to fit. Ishizu slid in to the middle, Rishid and Malik on either of her sides. Jounouchi-kun, Honda-kun and Anzu sat on her left, while Aibou and Yami sat on her right, Yami on the edge of the seat, pressed into Aibou’s side.

“So, have you found anything yet, Ishizu-san?” Aibou asked once they had finally settled.

Ishizu’s face, though calm as ever, gave her answer before she spoke. She opened a large, stiff bag—almost like a small briefcase—she had brought with her and pulled out a stack of papers at least two centimeters thick, which Yami noticed were printed scans and photographs of ancient tablets, filled with hieroglyphics.

“Unfortunately, nothing yet. I’ve almost finished looking through the resources from the Domino Museum, and if nothing comes up, I’ll contact one of my colleagues in Cairo.”

Jounouchi-kun gawked. “You’ve looked through _all_ of those already?”

“Oh, no, these are just the ones I have left,” Ishizu replied, as if it were nothing of consequence. “I’ve already sorted through the rest, but I don’t believe they will be of any help.”

Everyone’s jaw—except Rishid’s and Malik’s—fell open. Yami had no idea how fast Ishizu could read hieroglyphics, but he had seen enough of Aibou’s textbooks to know how much time it took to read something that thick.

Anzu suddenly looked guilty. “Ishizu-san, you don’t need to work so hard on our behalf …”

Before Yami could agree, Ishizu smiled and shook her head.

“Please don’t worry, Anzu. I’ve looked through much more in shorter periods of time. I’ll be fine. I want to solve this as soon as possible.”

Rishid nodded in silent agreement, but Malik fidgeted, his face a mixture of wonder and concern.

“I don’t think Sister sleeps as much as other people,” he said, a bit secretively, as if Ishizu wasn’t sitting right beside him. “She was up until after I went to bed and when I got up, she was still right there, at her desk!”

“Malik,” Ishizu said, quiet and flat. Malik flinched. But Ishizu’s eyes held no anger, and a moment later she smiled again. “Malik helped a good deal, actually. He looked through a number of scans after he returned from the game shop. And Rishid helped me the whole time.”

“I only did a bit,” Rishid replied. “You have the most knowledge on this topic, Ishizu.”

Aibou and all their friends exchanged silent glances, unusually solemn. Yami looked at these three siblings, so casually discussing flying to Japan on less than a day’s notice to do intense historical research, and something in him ached. For his sake—even if he didn’t remember commanding it, even if he couldn’t _imagine_ commanding it—these three had spent years of their lives underground, in darkness, suffering, just to guard his tomb and his memories. For his sake, one had been driven insane, been driven to commit terrible acts, the extent of which they would probably never know.

In the midst of Battle City, Aibou had assured him it wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t be blamed for his lost memories. And maybe he was right. But nonetheless, this family had suffered on his behalf, and still they came to help him as soon as they were asked.

He opened his mouth, but Aibou beat him to it, lowering his head in the closest to a bow he could manage while sitting in the booth.

“Thank you, all of you. We really appreciate you doing this.”

Ishizu’s smile grew, soft and fond. “Of course, Yuugi.”

“But you haven’t found anything?” Honda-kun asked in slight disbelief, looking down at the thick stack. “Even in all that?”

Ishizu turned to face him.

“The information we’re looking for isn’t readily available, and it likely won’t be mentioned more than a few times in all known records. Most of it has no index and must be examined and translated by hand, and though I expect it will be found in New Kingdom era, it may not, and in that case there are more than three thousand years of tablets and scrolls to look through.”

The whole table went silent. Ishizu said it as if she had taken on a small pet project, but even Yami felt overwhelmed just thinking about it. Games, he could do, for hours on end; looking through documents was a different story. He didn’t need the link to know Aibou felt the same.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Yami asked, his tone controlled even as the sense of being completely useless in solving his own problems descended upon him.

Ishizu offered him the same smile she had given Aibou, though a bit more reverent. She shook her head.

“Thank you, Pharaoh, but I don’t believe so. An extensive knowledge of hieroglyphics would be necessary to make sense of it.”

Which he didn’t have. Which he wouldn’t have until his memories returned.

His only language, which he had presumably known quite well when he was alive. Complete gibberish to him now.

Ishizu turned to the rest of the group.

“I expect we will find something soon,” she went on. “It will just take patience. Even the magic which keeps the pharaoh bound to the Millennium Puzzle is very obscure, and only mentioned a few times. To seal away a part of one’s soul in a physical object was a difficult prospect, and only certain items had the magical properties necessary for the transfer.”

Jounouchi-kun, who had been paying more attention to the menu than the conversation before then, looked up. “What do you mean, part of his soul?” His eyes drifted to Yami. “He’s not … a whole soul?”

Yami stiffened. He looked to Aibou, and Aibou looked back. They turned to Ishizu, only to find Malik and Rishid watching her, too, as if this was something even they hadn’t heard. Ishizu sat up straighter, looking for all the world like she had in the museum that evening with Anzu.

“Ancient Egyptians believed that the soul was split into five parts. The _ib,_ the heart; the _sheut,_ the shadow; the _ren,_ the name; the _ba,_ the … personality, what makes one unique; and the _ka,_ the spark of life. The pharaoh does not remember his name, so he is missing his _ren._ But other parts of his soul were sealed within the Puzzle.”

“So the rest of him is here,” Honda-kun said, his voice unsure.

“That is what I assume,” Ishizu replied. She paused. “But … as I said, the process of sealing souls is ancient, and like all that ancient magic, knowledge of it is limited. In the very few records of such things occurring, some had sealed only parts of their soul within items, or even merged parts of the soul that were meant to remain separate.”

No one spoke. The chatter around them continued, but it seemed to quiet as well, drifting into the background. Anzu fiddled with her fingers.

“So … this might not be all of the other Yuugi?” she asked, looking at Ishizu even as her head twitched toward Yami. “He might be missing more of himself, not just his name, er, _ren_?”

Ishizu nodded. “It is possible. But right now, we know that he is missing his _ren,_ and from the stories I was told as a child, regaining it should be enough to allow his spirit to be free from the Puzzle.”

Aibou turned to Yami, but looked away before Yami could ask why he looked both happy and sad.

At last, a waitress approached their table, rushing a bit, as if she had just realized they had been sitting there for a good five minutes without being served. She wore one of the widest smiles Yami had ever seen, curly brown hair pulled back into a high ponytail, no older than her late teens.

“Welcome to Pizza Palace! My name’s Mizuki, and I’ll be your waitress today. What can I get you?”

One by one, they gave their orders, Malik spending a full thirty seconds deciding, as if getting to choose a meal at a restaurant was still a novel experience. Aibou ordered hamburger pizza—to no one’s surprise—and at last Mizuki turned to Yami.

Then her expression changed. It was subtle, just a tilt of her eyebrows, a widening of her eyes, but Yami has been paying attention to his opponents’ faces for too long not to notice it.

“And what can I get you?” she asked. Her voice had changed, too. He couldn’t quite name it—her tone reminded him a bit of Mai’s, though he had always caught the undercurrent of taunting and competitiveness with Mai, and he heard none of that with Mizuki.

He blinked. “Hamburger pizza. Please.”

She jotted it down in her notepad, but didn’t stop smiling at him. He glanced away, trying to meet the eyes of someone at the table, someone who might give him some hint as to what the waitress was up to. He doubted she wanted to challenge him to a duel. But Jounouchi-kun and Honda-kun just waggled their eyebrows at him. Anzu was rolling her eyes, Ishizu and Rishid were focused on the scans, and Malik was looking at the dessert menu.

And when Yami looked at Aibou, the boy only blushed, looking more helpless than ever.

Mizuki was still grinning as she shifted closer to the table. “I’ve never seen you around before. Are you little Yuugi-chan’s brother?”

Yami blinked. “I …”

“I love your hair,” she cooed, leaning in as if she might touch it—though thankfully she didn’t. “It’s so … _unique._ ”

“It’s the same as Aibou’s hair,” Yami replied, brow furrowed.

“‘Aibou’?” she asked. But she shook off the curiosity only seconds later. “Well, can I get you anything else with your pizza?”

“No, thank you.”

She leaned in further. Yami leaned back. He glanced around the table again, catching everyone’s expressions, particularly Jounouchi-kun’s. It felt almost familiar. Wasn’t that the same face he gave to Aibou when he was talking to Anz—

Oh. _Oh._

“Are you _sure_?” Mizuki tried again, tilting her voice up. Yami shifted back in the booth, closer to Aibou. “We have really great strawberry shakes. I could make you one special.”

She winked. Yami racked his brain to remember how Aibou had gotten out of situations like this.

“Actually, I think I’d like one of those strawberry shakes,” Aibou piped in, and when Yami jerked his head around to face him, he found him smiling, sweet and innocent and oh so clever. “They sound delicious.”

Jounouchi-kun raised his hand. “Yeah, me too! I bet it’d be _extra_ special if you made it.”

In less than a second, Mizuki’s smile had gone, her expression cold and professional.

“I make them exactly the same as everyone else does, sir. I’ll add those to your order,” she replied, jotting something down in her notepad but with none of her former flair. “I’ll have your food out soon.”

Jounouchi-kun watched with jaw dropped and eyes wide as she pivoted and walked away. Only when she was out of earshot did Honda-kun burst out laughing.

As soon as they had quieted down, Anzu asked a few more questions about the sort of information Ishizu was looking for, and what kind of tablets she had been researching. It gave them nothing they could use, still no way to help, but it filled the silence, and Anzu had always seemed fascinated by Yami’s past. Yami listened, even if he didn’t speak. This was about him. His culture, his history. But it was all foreign, save for the bits he had picked up at the museum and what Aibou had learned in history class. So he let Anzu ask the questions. She, at least, seemed to know what to ask.

Mizuki returned with their food shortly after, and Ishizu finally tucked the papers away in her bag to make room for the plates. Yami got another wink just as the waitress turned to leave. He looked away until he was sure she had gone, ignoring the snickers from Jounouchi-kun and Honda-kun across the table.

Only when he looked back up did he notice the napkin tucked behind his plate.

And the black pen marks on the corner.

He picked it up.

“Aibou?”

Aibou turned to face him, blinking wide, oblivious eyes. “Hm?”

Yami lifted the napkin. “She gave me her phone number.”

Aibou’s face tensed, as if holding back either a laugh or a grimace.

“Oh.”

Jounouchi-kun leaned over the the table, waggling his eyebrows again. “Well? Are you gonna call her?”

“Why would I want to call her?” Yami asked. “We’d have nothing to talk about.”

Honda-kun raised both eyebrows, incredulous.

“Well, if you don’t want her number, I’ll take it!” Jounouchi-kun grinned and stretched out his arm.

Then Aibou snatched up the paper and set it back down in front of Yami’s plate, out of Jounouchi-kun’s reach. He frowned.

“She didn’t give it to _you,_ Jounouchi-kun! It’s her phone number, it’s private.”

Jounouchi-kun sighed, but flopped back down into his seat, almost hitting Honda-kun with his elbow on the way.

“You have to be a buzzkill, don’t you, Yuugi?” he asked, though there was no real bite to his words, and Aibou smiled in reply. Jounouchi-kun looked at Yami then, smirking. “She seemed to like you, though. And she was cute. Are you _sure_ you don’t want to keep that number?”

Yami stiffened. “Um …”

Malik covered his mouth to keep from laughing, and even Rishid seemed to be holding back a smile. Only Ishizu was so focused on the scans that she seemed to have missed the whole exchange—though Yami thought he might have seen her smirk, just for a second.

Anzu rolled her eyes.

“Jounouchi, we’re here to figure out how to help the other Yuugi, _not_ so you can flirt with the waitresses.”

Honda-kun smiled like a small child convincing his parents to buy him extra candy. “But we can talk about the other Yuugi _and_ flirt with the waitresses!”

“You know, I’m sure they’d get me another glass of water if I dumped this one over your head, Honda,” Anzu replied.

Honda-kun went silent.

The rest of the meal passed normally, or as normally as gatherings with all five friends plus one ally and two former enemies could go. Ishizu looked through her scans and photographs as soon as she had finished with her meal—it was more than a little strange to watch her eat pizza, which she insisted on doing with a fork and knife—and Anzu continued to ask questions, even though she couldn’t understand any of the writing. Rishid remained almost completely silent, as was his wont, and Malik talked more about Duel Monsters with Jounouchi-kun, giving Honda-kun the opportunity to sneak bites of the latter’s pizza.

Yami and Aibou just sat there, enjoying their pizza and turning to smile at each other from time to time.

Ishizu would need at least another day to figure things out. That meant one more evening playing video games or watching TV at the game shop, one more night nestled together in Aibou’s bed, one more morning waking up with Aibou and Jii-chan and pretending, just for a minute, that it had always been that way.

The food was good, the company was better, and as they paid the bill and started toward the door, Yami let himself look forward to one more day of the life he had never thought he would have.

And when he saw Mizuki the waitress making her way toward him, he almost tripped over Aibou and all the others in an effort to get outside first.

 

*

 

The initial few days had felt like weeks, as they struggled to work past their shock and figure out how to go about their day-to-day life with a solid person who had resided in an oversized pendant for the past year.

But after the Ishtars arrived, after they had accepted what had happened and started to search for answers, time seemed to rush to catch up with itself, resuming at a normal pace and even faster.

During the day, Yuugi went to school—because his other self still wouldn’t hear anything about him skipping. His other self stayed home, watching TV or playing single-player video games or getting lost in a really good manga or even playing solitaire, until Yuugi got home, having run all the way just so the two of them could have a few extra minutes together.

It wore him out, but it was always worth it.

Sometimes their friends came over, or they all went out to get something to eat or see a movie or just walk around town, chatting and enjoying each other’s company. Malik came along more often than not, at first with the excuse of giving them updates on his sister’s research, but eventually admitting that he just wanted to spend time with them. No one objected, and Yuugi wished he had taken a picture of Malik’s face when Jounouchi-kun patted him on the back hard enough to break a rib and challenged him to a no-stakes duel.

Yuugi wasn’t sure Malik had ever played a no-stakes duel in his life.

Sometimes they tried to help Ishizu-san and Rishid, even though none of them could read hieroglyphics and were of almost no use. Yuugi finally convinced her that there was no rush to find out what had happened. He had been scared that first day, scared that some new threat would show up and he would be completely unprepared.

But after a week and a half, his anxiety had faded. Something still might happen. But the chances had slimmed, so much that he wondered, from time to time, if the Puzzle hadn’t simply heard his wish to let his other self be part of the group, and somehow managed to grant it.

Jii-chan did tell him it could grant wishes, after all. And if it had given him three close friends, what’s to say it couldn’t give his dearest friend an opportunity to live?

He didn’t say that, though. Not out loud, even to his other self.

If it had been a granted wish, it wasn’t one that would last.

He brushed off that thought as he walked back into the game shop Wednesday after school, almost two weeks after this had all begun. All his friends were busy, and he saw, both from the “closed” sign on the door and the note left on the front desk, that Jii-chan had gone out. Which meant it would just be him and his other self, at least for a while.

Maybe they could play a board game this time. They hadn’t done that in a while. They had watched most of the movies, and gotten through half of his video games. Maybe—

Yuugi stopped. His nose wrinkled. He sniffed.

Smoke. Yes, that was definitely smoke.

He threw himself through the shop and into the house, almost tripping in his rush to get to the kitchen.

“Jii-chan! Jii-chan, are you—”

Then he reached the kitchen doorway and stumbled to a stop.

The room had filled with a thin layer of smoke, but not so thick that Yuugi couldn’t see through it. And while the shape of the head across the room looked a little like Jii-chan’s, this head didn’t wear a bandana, and its owner was a bit taller and a good deal thinner, and currently staring at him with wide, startled, guilty eyes.

Yuugi blinked. Hard.

“Mou hitori no … boku?”

He wondered if this was the expression that had been on his other self’s face when Yuugi switched places with him on that “date,” when he had shouted at the Puzzle only to realize Anzu was watching.

He raised one hand in a small wave. “Yo, aibou.”

Yuugi kept blinking, partly because of the smoke and partly because he expected to wake up any second now, even though he didn’t remember going to sleep.

“What are you _doing?_ ”

For the first time, Yuugi noticed that his other self was standing in front of the stove. With a saucepan on it. His other self looked away, his own version of biting his lip.

“I thought I’d … make you an after-school snack.”

“A snack,” Yuugi repeated.

“Yes.”

A pause.

“But … do you even know how to cook?”

His other self still refused to meet his eyes. He had faced down some of the most vicious opponents known to humankind, and he couldn’t look his aibou in the eye. “I know what’s in your memories.”

Yuugi balked. “I can barely boil water!”

This time, his other self really did bite his lip, even though he let it go a second later. He looked up, hesitant and a little ashamed.

“Then … I can barely boil water, too.”

Yuugi stepped inside. The smoke had begun to clear, probably spreading out to the rest of the house, and he could better make out the saucepan, still smoking.

“What were you trying to _make_?” he asked.

“Ramen.”

Yuugi waved his hand in front of his face to shift more of the smoke. “And what happened?”

“It … caught on fire,” his other self murmured, still sheepish, though now slightly confused. “So I dumped water on it.”

Yuugi stared.

“How did the _ramen_ catch on _fire_?”

His other self huffed. “I’m not sure. I put it in the pan and turned on the heat—”

“Was there water in the pan?”

“… was there supposed to be?”

Yuugi’s brow furrowed.

“I thought you just said you knew everything I—never mind,” he cut himself off, shaking his head. He tried to smile in weak reassurance, even though his eyes still widened in horror every time he looked around him. “I’ll help you clean up.”

Strange that the smoke alarm hadn’t gone off. He should probably tell Jii-chan about that—maybe it needed new batteries. For now, all he could do was hope that the smoke didn’t seep into anything too much. He opened one of the drawers, grabbed two old dish rags, wet them, wrung them out, and got to work.

For a good ten minutes, he and his other self wiped down the kitchen, the counters, the stove, the floor, even the walls, though of course they couldn’t reach the ceiling. The smoke thinned, and it was clear, upon closer inspection, that they would need to do a lot more cleaning later on that night. But for now, at least they got the worst of it.

His other self sighed as he laid his soiled rag over the edge of the sink. “I’m sorry, aibou.”

He had averted his eyes again, staring at the floor. Yuugi squeezed his shoulder, leaning in to make sure he saw his smile.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. You should have seen me when I was ten and tried to make breakfast for Mama. We were lucky we didn’t have to replace the whole kitchen!”

He laughed. A smile quirked at his other self’s lips, and he met Yuugi’s gaze at last.

“I remember that.”

Yuugi tilted his head. “Is it … like a real memory for you?”

“Sort of.” His other self leaned back against the counter, arms crossed in the posture that had once made him look so cool in Yuugi’s eyes, but now just looked relaxed. “It’s … different. It’s like I _was_ there, but I wasn’t. I was watching everything happen, but I didn’t choose to do anything. Like … a dream, where you can’t control your actions. Everything just happens around you.”

Yuugi hummed, brow furrowed as he tried in vain to imagine what that would be like. What it had been like waking up for the first time, how he must have felt, at what point he realized that he wasn’t actually Yuugi.

Then his other self sighed, and Yuugi looked up to find him shaking his head at the state of the kitchen.

“This is a mess,” he muttered.

Yuugi giggled. “I’d offer to teach you how to cook, but, well … you know everything I know. Honestly, I might have made the same mistake, if we have the same knowledge to go on.”

He smiled, trying to lighten the mood, but his other self’s lips curved into a frown.

“It’s difficult.”

“Cooking?” Yuugi asked.

“Everything,” his other self replied. He sighed. “I … I’m not used to this. _Living._ Day to day.”

Something clenched deep in Yuugi’s chest, and he forced it down before it could consume him. He bit his lip. “You don’t … like it? Having your own body?”

His other self turned to him with wide, shocked eyes.

“No, aibou, I _love_ it. I love getting to play video games with you and talk to our friends and … and touch you.”

As if to make his point, he reached over and entwined his fingers with Yuugi’s own. It was the first time he had done that, and even though a part of Yuugi’s brain screamed that he should avoid gestures with such obvious implications, another insisted that this was still his other self, and honestly, he didn’t mind. He squeezed the hand holding his. His other self smiled before looking away again.

“But … all I’ve ever done is games. That I remember, at least. From the moment I woke up. I took over your body to stop those who tried to harm you, to play Duel Monsters, but … not for anything else. Except for that day with Anzu. Everything is strange, and I have … no idea how to handle it.”

At any other time, Yuugi would have assured him that that was ridiculous, that he had been handling immensely difficult situations for a year now, problems that Yuugi never could have solved on his own. If he could do that, everyday life should be cake.

Which it was, he supposed, for them. He doubted either he or his other self could make cake without blowing up the kitchen.

His other self was excellent at games. Beyond excellent. He was the best Yuugi had ever met. Not only was he an amazing strategist, but he could project such unshakeable confidence that it threw some of the cockiest duelists Yuugi had ever met off their game.

But the only social interaction he had ever had was with either his close friends or his opponents, and for the first time, Yuugi could see exactly how little practice he had with just talking to other people.

Even after a week and a half, he still remained silent during most of their outings with their friends, hovering next to Yuugi, so close their shoulders almost bumped into each other, as if he could simply meld back into Yuugi’s body if he got too uncomfortable. The only time he ever fully relaxed was when he and Yuugi were alone—or if someone challenged him to a game, Duel Monsters or anything else. Then he melded into a completely different personality: soft eyes and gentle smile for the first, confident smirk with a determined gleam for the second.

“You’re doing fine, mou hitori no boku,” Yuugi said at last, squeezing his hand. He hesitated. “I know it’s been crazy and it’s been really hard for you to get used to, but … I’m glad this happened. I’m glad you get to … live, even for a little while.”

In seconds, his other self’s face melted from tense uncertainty to soft affection. He smiled back.

“Me too, aibou.”

For a moment longer, the two of them held each other’s gaze, Yuugi taking a moment to marvel that he could stand there, in his own body, and feel the solid touch of the spirit that had floated at his side, intangible and transparent, since Duelist Kingdom. They were both there, safe and smiling. And that was enough for Yuugi to be sure that everything would work out, one way or another.

Then footsteps sounded in the hallway, and both of them turned their heads as Jii-chan appeared in the doorway. The shopping bag in his hand clattered on the floor, his eyes wide and jaw dropped.

“Yuugi, what _happened_ in here?!”

Finishing getting the kitchen cleaned up only took another twenty minutes once Jii-chan dug out the mop and the rest of the cleaning supplies. Nothing seemed to be ruined, and when they told Jii-chan what had happened, he broke down laughing and regaled him with the story of how he had nearly blown up his own kitchen while still a bachelor, and had been evicted from his apartment once his landlord found out.

The three of them ordered takeout and ate dinner before Jii-chan went to take inventory in the shop. Yuugi had planned to help him, but he started yawning in the middle of their meal, his responses sluggish, and Jii-chan insisted that he get some rest. Yuugi’s other self guided him away before he could protest, checking him over before Yuugi finally convinced him that he had just had a long day.

They had played video games almost every evening before now, if they weren’t out with their friends, but tonight, they found themselves on the couch, curled up under a large blanket and watching old horror movies. Yuugi had always liked them, and his other self fell in love with them after the first one he saw.

“Aibou, how do they make it look like a giant monster is attacking without computer animation?”

“When did they start adding color to movies? How do they do it?”

“Why do all of these things happen in Tokyo?”

Of course, his other self knew perfectly well that if he didn’t know something, Yuugi probably wouldn’t either, unless he had learned it more recently when their link was closed off. But he asked anyway, maybe because it gave them a reason to talk, and Yuugi answered as best as he could.

If nothing else, it was a way to make up for all the hours they couldn’t talk at all.

Spending so long at school, separated, had gotten no easier as time went by. All day, Yuugi found himself zoning out, reaching around with his mind for the presence that was simply no longer there, wondering if his other self was okay, if he was too bored. Wishing he could be home with him, instead of here, even if he loved spending time with his friends.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one. Yuugi had been all too shocked on Monday after classes ended, as he walked to the lockers to get his shoes, when he heard several kids shouting about Mutou Yuugi having a twin no one had heard about. Yuugi almost tripped over his own feet getting outside, only to find his other self standing at the school gate.

Waiting for him.

It only happened once, but the look of sheer relief on his other self’s face when he ran up to him in the schoolyard had burned itself deep in Yuugi’s mind. And Yuugi hadn’t cared about everyone watching. He grabbed him in a hug and held on until their friends called their name.

Every day, once he got home from school, the only time he spent more than a minute without at least a brief touch with his other self was when he was in the bathroom. But all morning before he left, all afternoon and evening, and all night, they were always in some sort of contact, whether it was a brush of a hand on each other’s arm or a full-out hug.

Yuugi usually wasn’t the one to initiate it, but he never minded. Any embarrassment about his other self’s closeness had vanished after the first few days, and he wasn’t sure his other self had ever been embarrassed about it in the first place.

Around everyone else, they kept some distance, if only because Yuugi knew his other self didn’t like strangers paying such close attention to him unless it was to challenge him to a game. But at home, by themselves, social customs no longer mattered. Yuugi found himself spending more time on the couch either watching TV, playing video games or just talking than he had in his entire life, and certainly more time than he had ever spent with another person pressed against his side.

He didn’t mind that either. Maybe it should have made him feel lazy, but it seemed that, at least for the past week, he had returned from school more tired than usual. His other self, on the other hand, twitched with excess energy, yet somehow still liked lounging on the couch just as much as playing video games together or even wrestling, as they had done once or twice for no reason Yuugi could remember. Sometimes Yuugi fell asleep on his other self’s shoulder, and his other self would just sit there, leaning his head against Yuugi’s, until Jii-chan came in to tell them both it was getting late.

His other self asked about it once, but Yuugi just smiled and waved it off and said that all the excitement had worn him out. But his other self held him tighter that night after they went to bed.

Yuugi tilted his head up to peer at his other self as he stared at the screen with eager eyes. It was almost like having a brother. A twin brother, closer than any two twins had been in human history. Twins who teased each other, twins who finished each other’s sentences, twins who could communicate without talking because for so long they hadn’t _needed_ to talk.

The sort of twins that would have stayed together the rest of their lives, if only they could.

Sometime after the sun set, Yuugi got up from the couch to go sweep up the game shop, just as he had promised Jii-chan he would do. His other self followed without a word. Yuugi got out the broom—insisting that only one of them could sweep, since there was only one broom—and started sweeping, while his other self wandered around, looking at all the new games up for sale. In under ten minutes, Yuugi was done, his arms achy but the floor clean. With a smile, he set the broom up against the back wall.

“Aibou?”

Yuugi turned, only to find his other self by the front door, peering through at the glass at the dark street outside. “Hm?”

“What are those?”

Yuugi raised an eyebrow. He walked up to his other self’s side and squinted. Then his face lit up.

“Oh, the fireflies are out!” Without waiting for a response, he unlocked the door and stepped out into the cool air of the summer night. It was hard to see them at first glance, but when he looked closer, he saw more than a dozen tiny flashes of light, flickering and flying around the front of the shop. He laughed. “You hardly ever see any in this part of the city. They only show up in the middle of summer.”

Footsteps sounded behind him, and he turned to find his other self staring at the insects with wide, wondrous eyes. As if … Yuugi’s brow furrowed.

“I haven’t seen them much,” he murmured. “I guess that’s why you don’t remember them.”

His other self didn’t look away from the fireflies. “Mm.”

He stepped forward then, following the little blips of light, jumping when one appeared without warning in front of his face, walking faster to keep up with one, like he was chasing it. Yuugi’s chest warmed, a smile curling up his lips. There were so many things he had never gotten to experience. Not for himself, at least. He was so _alive_ now, so _young._ He looked at the world with an innocent wonder Yuugi hadn’t thought possible for someone who could be so harsh with those who threatened him. Now, he feared no enemies, no violence, no monsters. Now, he just lived.

And it wasn’t going to last.

As soon as Ishizu-san found out what had happened to them, she would reverse it, and things would go back to the way they were before. Yuugi would go back to being an eighteen-year-old boy with a three-thousand-year-old spirit living inside his pendant. And there would be nothing to stop them from finally planning the trip Yuugi had been putting off as long as he could.

Nothing to stop them from going to Egypt with the god cards. Nothing to stop them from finally discovering the truth of his other self’s past, as Yuugi had promised he would help him do.

Nothing to stop him from leaving forever.

“Aibou?” came his other self’s voice, snapping him out of his trance. He looked up to find familiar eyes watching him, soft and concerned, the fireflies around him forgotten. “What’s wrong?”

Yuugi swallowed the growing lump in his throat, the burning behind his eyes. He pressed his lips together and clenched his hands into tight, painful fists.

Then he raced forward and touched his other self on the shoulder before scampering away.

“Tag, you’re it!”

He ran a good four meters, not far enough to end up in the street but enough to put some distance between them. He turned around. His other self stared, brow furrowed, a slight frown on his lips.

“Aibou?”

It took all his willpower, but Yuugi forced himself to laugh as if nothing could ever go wrong. “C’mon, mou hitori no boku! I tagged you, now you have to catch me!”

For another few seconds, his other self just looked at him, blinking. Then his eyes sharpened, and his lips twisted into a smirk. Not quite the same smirk he wore against their opponents. But enough to set all the hairs on Yuugi’s body on end, with excitement rather than fear.

“You’re on, aibou!”

He broke into a sprint and Yuugi scrambled away, barely missing the hand that reached for his back.

They ran and laughed and played until Yuugi found himself panting, his heart racing as he stumbled to a stop, and the hand that touched his shoulder was to steady, rather than tag.

With no words, they went back inside and headed up to bed.

Yuugi’s other self watched him with a tiny frown the whole way, but Yuugi pasted on a soft smile, and by the time they slid into bed and cuddled up together, he could almost believe it was real.


	7. Chapter 7

Yami had seen glimpses of it for weeks now. If he was being honest with himself, ever since Battle City. It got worse after the KC Grand Prix, but for a short time after he got his own body, it seemed to get better.

He had never asked Aibou about it. He tried to cheer him up, but if Aibou didn’t want to talk about what was bothering him, then Yami wasn’t going to pry.

But it was different now. Wednesday night, Aibou had looked at him with such pain, such ache, it made his chest twist. But it was gone a second later when he tugged Yami into their game of tag, and he had thought it would disappear again, as it always did.

It didn’t.

On Thursday, Aibou hardly talked at all at breakfast, and when he arrived home and finished his homework, he flopped down on the couch and just sat there, letting Yami pick what they watched, apparently not up for video games. Yami watched him with more and more worry as his behavior continued through the evening and Friday morning, until Jii-chan asked him, after Aibou had left for school, whether something was wrong.

And Yami didn’t know.

Something _was_ wrong, he was sure of it. He just didn’t know _what._

Or maybe he did. His hunch poked at the back of his mind, and he wondered if he should believe it.

Friday evening went the same. Aibou sat there, staring at the TV with blank eyes. Yami even tried flipping to some downright ridiculous channels to try to get a response out of him, but Aibou barely blinked until Yami—accidentally—flipped onto a channel in the middle of a horror movie, right as a woman screamed at the top of her lungs.

At nine, hours earlier than they would have normally gone to sleep before a weekend, Yami suggested they head up to bed. Aibou didn’t protest. Yami doubted he even realized what time it was.

They brushed their teeth together, as always, then changed into their pajamas without a word. But just as Aibou reached to flick off the light, Yami crossed his arms.

“You’re upset.”

Aibou froze, his finger just above the light switch, before he turned around, blinking wide eyes that Yami almost believed were actually confused.

“Huh? No! I’m fine.”

“It wasn’t a question, aibou.”

Aibou looked away. His brow tilted in something that Yami normally would have called sadness, but which now looked closer to guilt.

“I’m okay,” he murmured. “Really. I think it’s just been a long day. We’ve had a lot going on!”

Yami sighed.

“That’s not what’s wrong.”

Aibou bit his lip and stared at the floor. Gods, it hurt to see him like that. Yami resisted the growing urge to tug at his own hair—if only out of the habit of not wanting to damage Aibou’s body—and forced out a slow breath.

“I … I can’t feel your heart anymore, aibou. But I _know_ you. Better than I know anyone. Something’s wrong,” he said, barely hiding the hint of pain in his voice. Aibou’s shoulders tensed, but he did not look up. Yami blinked. Then his eyebrows rose, his eyes narrowing, the memory of shadow magic, the promise of vengeance, pulsing through his veins. “Did someone hurt you?”

Aibou jerked back, holding up both his hands and shaking his head so fast his bangs flopped across his face.

“No! No, it’s nothing like that!”

He wasn’t lying. Yami would have known if he was. His muscles relaxed, and he tilted his head. “Then what is it?”

“It’s nothing—”

“Aibou, _please._ ”

Normally Yami wouldn’t resort to begging. He was far too proud for something like that. But if begging would have given him a chance of retrieving Aibou’s soul from the Orichalcos, he would have done it without a second’s thought. And he would do the same now.

For his aibou, a “please” was all he needed.

The boy’s posture slumped, and he turned toward the wall. He didn’t speak. Yami waited. Aibou put a hand to his forehead and rubbed it down over his face, his teeth clamping down on his lip so hard it hurt to watch.

It felt like an hour later that he let out one long, trembling breath.

“It’s not fair …”

Yami stiffened, ears perked. “Aibou?”

Aibou made a sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper, slipping out through gritted teeth, and shook his head.

“It’s not fair!”

Yami stared, silent, eyes wide. Aibou turned further away from him, his head hung low, despair etched into every wrinkle in his smooth skin.

“I … I want to be brave,” he murmured, as much to himself as to Yami. “So I can help you find your memories and move on, where you’re _supposed_ to be. But I can’t _take_ it! Even if I _can_ live without you, I don’t _want_ to! I don’t wanna lose Jounouchi-kun or Anzu or Honda-kun or Jii-chan … any of my friends … and you’re my _partner_! My other self! You’re a _part_ of me! Jounouchi-kun’s my best friend, but you … you’re so much … I don’t even have a word for it. So much more than I ever thought I’d find. You’re always there, you understand me, you see me, the good and the bad and everything and you never …”

He choked, and for the first time Yami noticed the tears that streamed down his cheeks, dripping off the edge of his chin. He lifted his head, but kept his eyes on the wall.

Yami wanted more than anything else to run forward and hug him, hold him, fight away his pain even though there was nothing here he could defeat. Then Aibou opened his mouth once again.

“It’s not fair. I meet the one person who makes me whole and I have to send you away … and I hate myself … I’m so selfish … this is what you want, to move on, to be with your family, your friends, I know you must have had so many people who loved you and miss you and I …”

He sniffed and ran a hand over his face, then turned at last. The skin around his eyes was still puffy beneath the dried tears, but he forced a tight, reassuring smile onto his lips.

“I’m sorry, mou hitori no boku … this is … don’t listen to me. I really am being selfish. We’re going to get your memories back and I’ll help you get where you belong. I promise. No matter what.”

His voice cracked with suppressed sobs, but he kept smiling, even as Yami stared.

How many times had Aibou put on a brave smile for him? How many times had he put aside what he wanted for Yami’s sake? Yami had promised him he wanted to stay with him forever, no matter what, and then when he changed his mind, and Aibou found out before Yami could even bring it up … he never complained. He never cried or begged him to stay, even though Yami could _feel_ the pain trickling over the link.

Fighting against Malik, Aibou strung up as a sacrifice, so willing to let himself suffer if it meant bringing Yami closer to finding his lost memories. Pushing him out of the Orichalcos seal, _smiling_ at him, so caring, so forgiving, _I believe in you, mou hitori no boku._

He claimed that Yami had given him friends. But Aibou would have found those on his own. Yami had no doubt.

Aibou had had his loved ones kidnapped, his friends threatened, his very life put on the line countless times … for Yami.

And here he was again. Ready to give up what he wanted, to make his other self happy.

Yami closed his eyes, clenched his fists, and stared at the floor of Aibou’s bedroom.

“I want to know who I am,” he murmured, not even daring to meet Aibou’s eyes, though he could _feel_ the pained smile, the suppressed ache. “I’m … tired, in a way. I don’t have any memories, but I can remember, in the Puzzle, so much time passed. I never felt old, but I’m … stretched. And part of me … just wants to rest. After everything. To rest forever.”

He knew what he would see if he looked at Aibou now. He would see acceptance, as much as that acceptance hurt to give. He would see determination, the same Aibou had held since Battle City, determination to help him no matter what that meant in the end. Even if it meant they would be separated for the rest of Aibou’s life. Aibou would do whatever it took for him to be happy.

Just as Aibou drew in a breath to speak, Yami went on.

“But then I think about that would mean. Losing you, aibou. And it … it hurts more than anything. It hurts too much to think about, so I don’t. I don’t like to be weak, so I just ignore those thoughts. But it feels wrong. The idea of us … being apart. I feel like you should always be by my side.”

At last, he gave in to the treacherous urge and looked up. Aibou stared, his violet eyes wide, still glistening with unshed tears. His lips parted and his brow creased. Yami felt a tiny smile quirking at his lips.

“I told you I wanted to be with you forever,” he said. “I meant it. To be with you for the rest of your life, to duel with you, to have you as my partner and be yours in return, see you grow, change, have your own family, be even more amazing than you’ve always been … I want to be there, aibou. At your side.”

His own eyes burned now, and for a second he thought it was just sympathy for Aibou before he felt them grow wet. He blinked hard, forcing the tears away. No. Aibou was strong for him, he would be strong for Aibou.

But what good would that do now?

His breath trembled as he drew it in.

“And … with everyone else, too. Our friends. Jounouchi-kun, Honda-kun, Anzu, Bakura, Kaiba, Otogi, Mokuba, Mai … I’ve never gotten to live. I … I never got to be … normal. I don’t know if I ever got that. If I got my memories back … I was a pharaoh. We read about pharaohs, they didn’t spend their time having fun, they had duties and everyone worshipped them. Would I even have friends? Real friends who didn’t view me as a god?”

He shook his head, his throat dry and tight.

“And I was … I don’t even know how old I was. If I never had the chance for friends, for a real life, if I died too young … Maybe I never got that! Maybe I’ll learn who I used to be and I won’t want that life! Maybe … I have the best chance at life right here, right now, with you, with everyone, and I’d be giving it up for a life that ended three thousand years ago. I don’t even _know,_ aibou!”

He didn’t realize he had raised his fist until he slammed it into the wall. His knuckles ached, and he heard Aibou stepping toward him, glimpsed the concern on his face out of the corner of his eye. He bit his lip and held his hand close to his chest. It wouldn’t hurt for long. The wall he had punched in that train had been harder, and he had hit it with far more force.

For a good five minutes after that, all he had thought about was how he had hurt Aibou’s hand and Aibou would have to suffer once he got his body back. Now, Yami kept reminding himself that this was his body. If he hurt it, he was the only one who would feel pain.

Maybe he should have punched harder.

Yami sighed, staring at the undamaged wall in front of him. It had done no good. Nothing would do any good. The future was still laid out in front of them, the same destiny he had walked along since he first emerged from the Puzzle. Was that his curse? To do only what destiny told him to do, _because_ destiny ordered it? Would he never have the right to make his own choices? His aching hand twitched, and for a second he thought he might punch the wall again.

Then a small, hesitant voice broke the silence.

“What would happen if … if you stayed?”

It was barely more than a whisper, and he wasn’t even sure if Aibou had meant for him to hear in the first place. But still he turned, eyes wide, brow furrowed, and found Aibou staring at the floor, his face unreadable, his arms hanging limp at his sides.

“What?” Yami asked.

Aibou bit his lip.

“Ishizu-san still doesn’t know what caused this.” He swallowed and peeked up at him through his bangs. “She might … she might not find out at all. And … it’s … I mean, I miss how things were sometimes, but now you can live. You have a body. You can eat and sleep and go places without me. You could … you could have a life. A normal life, or as normal as things ever get. With … with us … if you wanted.” T

Yami stared, his brain slowly catching up to Aibou’s words. But by the time he managed to form the beginning of a thought, Aibou was already shrugging, avoiding his gaze once more.

“I mean … your memories would always be there, if you ever changed your mind. And I wouldn’t stop you. It’s just an idea, I mean, if you want to go like we planned, you can, I promised I’d support you and I always will because no matter what happens you’re—”

“Aibou.”

Aibou froze at the sudden interruption, quiet and gentle as it might have been. He looked down like a small, shamed child, rubbing one foot with the toe of the other.

“… sorry.”

Yami didn’t want him to apologize. It _hurt_ to hear him apologize when he hadn’t done anything wrong, when he had _never_ done anything wrong. He bit the inside of his lip and breathed, reminding himself to inhale and exhale, because he was alive now. A separate being. A separate being that should have died three thousand years ago. A separate being who didn’t belong here, in this time, with this boy, as right as everything felt. And _gods,_ did it feel so right.

“It … wouldn’t be my place,” he forced out, every word like pulling a tooth. “To intrude on your life.”

Aibou’s head snapped up so fast Yami worried he had given himself whiplash.

“You’ve never intruded on my life, mou hitori no boku.” He paused, pressing his lips together and looking at his feet once more. “But it’s your choice.”

Yami felt every slow, hard pound of the heart within his chest. The real, solid heart that pumped blood through his veins, the heart that kept him alive, the heart that shouldn’t have been there, the heart that was there all the same.

Just like the heart he could feel pulsing against Aibou’s skin when he slept at his side.

“Like I said. I want to be with you forever, aibou,” Yami murmured, in the same soft tone he had used that night, as the boy stood in front of him with longing eyes and tears streaming down his face. “As long as you’ll have me.”

Aibou swallowed, and Yami watched those same tears slip out again. But this time, his wide violet eyes gleamed with something like hope.

“Forever …” He took a deep breath and stood up straighter. “So … you …?”

At last, Yami let himself smile. Not restrained or dignified, like the solemn king ruling over his people. He smiled like a sixteen-year-old boy would smile at his dearest friend in all the world, who loved Yami just as much as Yami loved him.

“Yes.”

Aibou laughed, a breathy, wondrous laugh that forced it way out his throat before he even knew it was there. He shook his head and laughed again, giggles pouring from his lips like water from a faucet.

“Wow … wow!” He beamed so wide the smile must have hurt his face. He dug his hands into his hair and paced back and forth. “This is … we have so much to do! I mean, we have to tell Ishizu-san, I hope she won’t be disappointed. Then we need to get you identification, since, well, legally, you don’t even exist yet! Maybe we could say you’re my long-lost twin or a distant cousin. People would believe us, the only people I’ve met with this hair are Jii-chan and Otou-san. And we have to get you clothes and your own place to sleep, unless you want to stay here, and—”

Before he could finish, Aibou’s mouth stretched open in a yawn to rival any yawn Yami had ever seen, and Yami broke out into a fit of snickers even he failed to control. Aibou tried to give him a look, but given that his mouth had yet to close it only twisted his face into an expression that made Yami laugh harder. Aibou rolled his eyes, but smiled still.

At last, he flicked off the lights and made his way across the floor to flop down on his bed, the mattress creaking beneath him. Even in the dark, Yami could see his smile. He walked to the edge of the bed and looked down at his aibou, and his aibou looked back up at him, his eyes sleepy and soft and blissful, as if nothing in the world could go wrong.

Without a word, he turned on his side, facing the wall and scooting forward, and Yami slid up next to him, wrapping his arms around him so his hands rested just above his heart. He settled his head on the pillow so his face pressed into Aibou’s hair, and every time he breathed the air smelled of his aibou, warm and soft and familiar and _home._

Home. This was his home.

He was going to stay with Aibou for the rest of their lives.

His tired mind grasped at all the possibilities, all the things he had never considered and now flooded into his brain at once. He would get to see Aibou graduate high school, and go to college. Would he go to college, too? Would he be able to? He had basically absorbed all of Aibou’s school knowledge thus far, but should he start going to school now? If he went to college, what would he major in? Would he even want to consider anything other than professional dueling?

And that was just the beginning. He could see Aibou get married, maybe have kids of his own. He grinned at the thought of tiny versions of Aibou running around. He could be their uncle, teach them how to duel, how to play dozens of other games, watch them grow up. He would see Jounouchi-kun and Honda-kun and Anzu as they got older, found their callings in life—he had little doubt he would see Anzu as a dancer in New York.

 _He_ would get older. He would have his own identity, his own life, his own choices. He could experience the mundane, the ordinary, the amazing, without new opponents threatening the peace of the world. He would grow old, retire, maybe start offering advice to young duelists just starting out when he got too old for tournaments.

Life would quiet down, until he spent his days watching the children and grandchildren of his dearest friends run around him, growing, changing, living. One day, this body of his, which seemed so young, so energetic, so _new_ now, would wear down until all he could do was sit in a chair and watch the world go by.

But he wouldn’t be alone. He would never be alone.

Because Aibou would be right there by his side, old and wrinkly and exactly the same.

Aibou hummed and shifted in his sleep, clutching Yami’s hand closer to his chest, and at last, Yami forced his train of thought to end. He nuzzled into the mess of black hair in front of his face and closed his eyes, treasuring every scent, every sound, every precious sensation.

Everything he would get to enjoy for years and years to come.


	8. Chapter 8

Yuugi was smiling before he fully woke up.

The memory of last night’s conversation, the _decision,_ seemed as fresh on his mind as it had been when he fell asleep. Several doubts still hovered in his brain, whether his other self was making the right choice, whether Yuugi had pressured him, if this would cause problems later, if—

But then his other self’s arms tightened around his waist, and he felt a familiar nose rub against the back of his head. He relaxed, closed his eyes, and smiled wider.

They lay there for another half hour before his other self woke with a yawn and a stretch, and the two of them climbed out of bed to get ready for the day.

It felt like a normal morning, for the most part. They walked downstairs together—or, rather, ran, Yuugi’s other self initiating an impromptu race that almost made them trip over each other and left them laughing their heads off by the time they reached the ground floor. Jii-chan had heated up some leftover takeout for breakfast, and in the middle of the meal Yuugi explained what he and his other self had decided, biting his lip and silently begging Jii-chan not to say no.

Jii-chan stared for a full ten seconds before breaking out into a wide grin, and exclaiming that he had always wanted a second grandson. Yuugi’s other self looked both embarrassed and immensely pleased, and Yuugi shook his head with a fond smile.

Honestly, he didn’t know why he had ever been worried.

While his other self went upstairs to shower, Yuugi helped Jii-chan with the dishes, and only once half of them were done did he speak up again.

“He’ll need some things of his own.” He handed Jii-chan a clean plate to dry. “I mean, we’re fine sharing a lot of stuff, but he’s his own person, and I want to make sure he doesn’t just feel like … my shadow.”

He rambled on a bit more, while Jii-chan listened in silence. After the dishes were done, Jii-chan left the kitchen, only to return a minute later with a wad of cash. He placed it in Yuugi’s hands, patted him on the shoulder, and smiled.

“Nothing but the best for my newest grandson.”

Yuugi tackled him in a hug.

He barely managed to hide his smile—and the cash—as his other self walked out of the bathroom, dressed and ready, and Yuugi slipped off with a simple, “I’ll be ready in ten minutes, then I thought of somewhere we need to go,” without any unwanted questions. As he washed his hair and hummed a random song from the radio, his smile almost broke his face, and he allowed his mind to wonder to when he would break the news to his friends, how happy they would be, and all the fun stuff the five of them could finally do now that they had years rather than weeks.

But by the time he stepped out of the shower, his head had begun to pound, and his smile had almost disappeared. The light of the bathroom was suddenly far too bright, and he struggled a bit to dry himself off and pull on the clothes he had laid out for himself. Just before heading out to meet his other self, he opened one of the cabinets under the sink, grabbed a bottle of painkillers, and swallowed two pills. They wouldn’t take effect for half an hour, but he could manage until then.

He looked in the mirror, smiled—ignoring the ache that almost made him dizzy—then walked out into the hall. He wasn’t sure whether his other self believed his grin, but either way, he said nothing about it, and a minute later, they were heading out through the front door of the shop.

Yuugi stopped himself from wincing when the bright sun hit his eyes. His other self definitely wouldn’t have missed that, and Yuugi didn’t want to worry him. But his headache had been bad already, and walking straight into a perfectly sunny day not an hour after he had woken up only made it worse.

It also didn’t help that his mind had been racing nonstop ever since he got up. It was a _good_ kind of racing, but still racing, and combining that with a headache never ended well.

Once they had been walking for a good five minutes in pleasant silence, Yuugi allowed himself to let out a long sigh.

“We’re gonna have a lot of work to do.”

His other self turned to him, brow furrowed in concern. “Hm?”

Yuugi shrugged. “I mean, it’s great, I’ve never been happier, you can _stay,_ but … wow. I already mentioned, we need to get you identification, and I have no idea how we’d even get started on that. I mean, technically, you don’t exist! You don’t have a birth certificate, or medial history, or … even a name! Other than mine, I mean.”

His other self said nothing. Surely he knew about these things—he had all of Yuugi’s knowledge about the modern world—but he didn’t seem to have thought of them. He didn’t seem to consider them a major problem either, going by his expression.

Maybe Yuugi was just overreacting … He hummed.

“I think Kaiba-kun might be able to help with the ID, if we can convince him … but we still need to pick a name for you.” He tilted his head. “Do you have any ideas?”

His other self frowned.

“I’ve never really thought about it,” he said, brow furrowed. Then something flashed in his eyes, the emotion gone before Yuugi had time to read it. “I’m … I don’t want to be called ‘Pharaoh.’”

Yuugi laughed, but it was hollow, and more meant to reassure than out of any sort of amusement.

He had never talked to his other self about their duel in the valley, with him wearing the Orichalcos seal on his forehead. It was the first and last time he had used the name their worst opponents so favored, said amicably only by the Ishtars and villains who had changed their ways. The one time he had abandoned the nickname he had given his other self from the beginning.

It was a role, and he had played it well. But he never forgot the sharp pain that twisted his other self’s face when he called him “Nameless Pharaoh.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t think that would work, anyway,” he replied, smiling to keep up the light tone. His other self’s tense shoulders fell. Yuugi’s smile widened. “Do you think you’d want something Egyptian? Or Japanese? I guess that depends … if we were gonna say you were a relative, we might want to go for Japanese, but then again, it might be easier if we said you were Egyptian … that would explain why you didn’t have any records being in Japan …”

“I’ve gotten so used to ‘Yuugi,’” his other self murmured, more timidly than Yuugi had heard him speak in a while.

Yuugi’s lips twitched up again. “I’ve gotten so used to ‘mou hitori no boku.’ I don’t know if I could call you anything else. It’d be pretty awkward, though, if people heard me calling you that. You remember the look on that waitress’s face?”

His other self smirked.

“I think she was more shocked to see two of us with the same hairstyle.”

“She probably thought we were twins,” Yuugi said with another laugh. His eyes lit up. “Actually, that story might work. But I don’t think we could ever convince Mama to—oh god …”

His whole face fell in under a second. A second after that, his other self had stepped toward him, smirk gone.

“What?”

“ _Mama_ … mou hitori no boku, I forgot all about that!” Yuugi groaned, digging his fingers into his hair. “My mom gets home _next_ _week_! What’s she gonna say about all this?!”

His other self blinked, then laughed out loud. Yuugi glared at him, but couldn’t help but feel a bit of his tension leaking away. If this was the extent of the problems they were facing, things couldn’t be all _that_ bad. If they could bring down attempted world dictators, they could deal with Yuugi’s mom.

Probably.

After all, they still had a week to think of something. Right now, all he wanted to do was relish in the moment, walking with his other self and imagining their future. And hoping, with a slight wince, that those painkillers would kick in soon.

 

As their destination came into sight, Yuugi picked up his pace, his other self close at his heels. Inside, it would at least be a little darker. And it would give him something to think about other than his head.

“So … why did you want to go to the mall, aibou?” his other self asked as they walked through the glass doors and into the hall lined with shops.

Yuugi flashed him a hesitant grin.

“I thought you might want to pick out some new clothes. Since you’ll be … staying.” He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced away. “I know you’ve been fine wearing mine so far, but if you wanted to … Jii-chan gave me some money …?”

He paused then, unsure if he needed to offer more explanation, but as soon as he looked back to his other self, his anxiety vanished. Yuugi found the same smile on his face as he had seen last night, but with a strange childlike glee behind it, a little like what he had seen after his other self picked out his own outfit for the first time weeks ago.

He all but beamed in return, and together they headed off to find their first store.

Yuugi had known since before Battle City that his other self had a very, well, _eccentric_ sense of fashion. It hadn’t even bothered Yuugi that much. He had started wearing his collar before Duelist Kingdom, and to this day he had never asked if it was some subconscious nudge from his other self or his own changing style. The chain had been more out of practicality than anything else—even though it turned out to be a problem in the fire—and he had only protested a little when his other self put on those thick bracelets.

He figured that his other self would have dressed far more outlandishly if he had the chance.

And he was right.

He just hadn’t guessed _how_ right.

He tried to put a name to the style his other self seemed to have picked for himself as they browsed through the shops. But nothing—at least nothing recent—fit. His favorite colors seemed to be black, deep red, navy blue, and royal purple, and if something had accents in silver or gold, he was almost guaranteed to like it. He preferred well-fitting shirts and even more fitted pants, but to Yuugi’s confusion, he actually spent a minute looking at _skirts_ before Yuugi drew his attention away.

Their budget was limited, so they only picked up a few outfits before heading to the shoe store. Yuugi wasn’t the least bit surprised when his other self made a beeline for the boots. He got only one pair, since he could still wear one of Yuugi’s and the boots he liked were on the expensive side. Yuugi had thought they might be ready to go after that …

Then his other self wandered into a _makeup_ store.

Yuugi didn’t comment. He wasn’t even sure what to say. He just followed his other self as he browsed the aisles before picking out some liquid eyeliner and looking to Yuugi for approval. Yuugi nodded without thinking. His other self beamed, placed the eyeliner on the check-out counter, paid, then slipped into the closest restroom they passed.

When he came out, it was with his eyes lined all the way around in black.

It didn’t look like anything Yuugi had seen a girl wear before. It took him a good minute before he remembered that ancient Egyptians, men and women, had lined their eyes for both aesthetics and sunscreen, and suddenly, seeing his other self in eyeliner no longer looked quite so strange.

And if it made him this happy, it was well worth it.

So he found himself almost expecting it when his other self led him, at last, to a small jewelry store. Nothing expensive or particularly fancy, but with a good selection of necklaces, bracelets, earrings, and dozens of other items Yuugi didn’t even know the name of. His other self went to browsing right away, even though Yuugi knew there wasn’t much money left for them to spend. But Jii-chan had encouraged him to spend it all, and since it was cash, they couldn’t accidentally go over the budget.

For a few minutes, he watched his other self browse, following him around and staring or snickering when he looked at something particularly odd. A few other customers gave them strange looks, but Yuugi just smiled, and they quickly left them alone. At last, when it seemed like they were going to be in there for a while yet, Yuugi touched his other self’s arm to get his attention.

“I’m gonna go check out some of the other stores,” he said, pointing over his shoulder. “I’ll be right down the hall. Meet me outside the store when you’re done, okay?”

His other self grinned even wider. “Okay, aibou!”

Without a pause, he turned back to the rack of jewelry in front of him, his fingers reaching out to touch each one and hold it close to his wrist to test it out.

Yuugi sighed, though it was more like a laugh. He felt a little like he was babysitting a small child. His other self definitely wasn’t a small child, but the sheer unadulterated _glee_ in his eyes as he examined the bracelets reminded Yuugi of a five-year-old who had found twenty presents piled up on the table on his birthday. His eyes lingered on the teenage pharaoh dropped into modern times for a few more seconds, then he walked out of the shop.

He didn’t even plan to buy anything, really. But he had thought about getting a new semi-formal outfit in case Anzu decided to invite them all to a fancy restaurant again, and none of the shops his other self had picked sold dress shirts or nice pants. He looked through a few and made notes of the stores and where he had found them. Maybe in a week or two—when Jii-chan’s wallet wasn’t so freshly spent from his other self’s new wardrobe—he could ask for some money to buy it.

After about twenty minutes, he started back to the jewelry store, and as soon as it came into sight, he made out his other self, leaning against the wall just outside the entrance, arms crossed. Yuugi smiled and picked up his pace, mouth open, ready to ask what new accessories his other self had picked out.

Then his eyes landed just to the side of his other self’s face, and his smile all but dropped to the ground with a _plop._

“Mou hitori no boku.”

His other self turned, his whole face lighting up as it always did when he saw Yuugi—no matter how many times he had seen him already. “Aibou!”

He jogged forward, stopping right in front of him, while Yuugi stood completely frozen, his gaze still locked on his other self’s face. He lifted a finger, his mouth open, lips moving, as he struggled to get his tongue to form words.

“What … what did you … what do you have in your _ears_?”

“Hm?” His other self blinked. “Earrings.”

“I know what they are,” Yuugi replied, his voice completely flat, his eyes just as wide. “But why are they in your _ears_?”

His other self grinned. “I got them pierced. And they put in these great silver hoops.”

Yuugi nodded very slowly. “Yes, I can see that.”

“What do you think?”

He was so excited, so oblivious that Yuugi almost swallowed his response. But it bubbled up in throat before he could stop it, and he found himself outright gawking.

“You _pierced_ your _ears_?!”

“I already said that,” his other self said, one eyebrow raised.

Yuugi floundered.

“But … you …!” At last, he sighed and shook his head, a smile working its way onto his lips. “Nevermind. It’s your body. And I know you love jewelry. If you want earrings, you can have earrings.”

His other self grinned even wider. “Actually, I think these would look great on you, aibou.”

Yuugi jerked back.

“Oh, _no_ way! _Definitely_ not!”

They argued about the earrings—if you could call it arguing, which Yuugi probably wouldn’t, given that they were laughing half the time—all the way home. Yuugi had hardly ever seen his other self smile so widely, his eyes bright and unbelievably alive. When they finally agreed to let the topic go, they talked about the two-player video games they had yet to play, and Yuugi went over the pros and cons of each to help his other self decide which one he wanted to try this afternoon.

But by the time they reached the game shop, Yuugi found his body a good deal heavier than usual, his eyelids trying to fall shut, and his brain way more sluggish than it should have been only a few hours after waking up. He managed to walk straight until they made it through the door behind the front desk, but as soon as he felt the inescapable safety that came with being home, he stumbled, barely catching himself before he fell flat on his face.

“Aibou!” His other self’s hands reached for his shoulders as if to steady him. “What’s wrong?”

Yuugi blinked, then forced himself to straighten up and shake his head.

“Nothing. I guess I’m just tired. Maybe I didn’t sleep as well as I thought last night.”

He tried to smile, but judging by his other self’s expression, it wasn’t very convincing.

He started up the stairs back to his room, his other self following even closer than usual. Yuugi knew, if he were to collapse then and there, he would fall less than a centimeter before his other self steadied him. He wandered into his room and dropped his shopping bags to the floor.

His other self lingered nearby as Yuugi stretched and yawned. “Do you need me to get you anything?”

Yuugi smiled, perhaps a bit more convincingly, and shook his head.

“No, thanks, I think I’ll just take a nap.” A second later, he let himself collapse onto the mattress, not even bothering to unmake his bed or pull the blankets over him. He turned his head, eyes drooping, to look at his other self, who still watched him from the center of the room. Yuugi’s eyes gleamed with guilt, surpassing even his sleepiness. “Sorry, I guess we can’t play that video game yet. I know you must be bored of TV after all this time, but you can look through my video collection, and we can play the game after dinner if you want.”

But his other self just shook his head and crossed the room to stand right next to the bed. Even in Yuugi’s blurring vision, his eyes looked soft, worried, and filled with affection.

“Don’t worry about it, aibou,” he murmured. “I’ll stay with you.”

Without another word, he slid into the bed at Yuugi’s side, wrapping his arms around him and settling his head just above Yuugi’s shoulder, the position he seemed to favor when they slept at night. The familiar warm weight against him made Yuugi’s eyes droop further, filling him with an immense sense of safety.

He sighed and closed his eyes in full.

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” his other self asked.

Yuugi hummed. “I’m fine, mou hitori no boku.”

He was almost sure his other self didn’t believe him. But he said nothing about it and merely tightened his arms around Yuugi’s waist.

Yuugi fell asleep to the familiar sound of his other self’s breath, gusting in and out against his cheek.

 

*

 

On Wednesday, Aibou left for school as he always did, and came home at the usual time, smiling at Yami, asking how his day was, and saying that he just needed a few minutes to get ready before they headed off to meet their friends.

But his smile was smaller than usual, his eyelids a bit droopier. He asked if Yami had enjoyed the new anime he had been watching, when they had been chatting just last night about how boring it had turned out to be. And he said he just needed a few minutes to get ready to go to the coffee shop, when Yami was absolutely sure they had planned to go the arcade.

Yami had noticed it days ago, but he had brushed it off, ignored it, assumed it was one more thing he didn’t understand.

But he shouldn’t have ignored it. If he knew one thing in this world, it was Aibou. His habits, his mannerisms, his bright smile and wide eyes and kind words. And he could see when his steps got just a little slower, his smile a little more forced, his eyes drooping as he struggled to keep them open. His typically quiet nature more reserved than it had been since before Jounouchi-kun had declared them friends, since the day Yami first peered out at the world through someone else’s eyes.

“Something’s wrong, aibou.”

He spoke on reflex the second Aibou returned to the living room, smiling, mouth open, the beginning of the word “ready” already on his lips. Aibou paused, and for a second, Yami regretted being so blunt. But he brushed that thought away before it could even begin to take root.

Honestly, he hadn’t hesitated to ask Aibou about being upset. This was his health. He should have brought it up right away.

Aibou blinked, then straightened, suddenly far more alert than he had been seconds before.

“What is it? Are you okay? Did something—”

“Something’s wrong with _you,_ aibou,” Yami broke in before Aibou could work himself into a frenzy. Aibou’s shoulders fell. Yami sighed. “You’re not usually this tired.”

Aibou licked his lips and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I just haven’t been sleeping well.”

It was the fifth time he had said those exact words in the past three days. Yami squeezed his hands into fists before he forced himself to relax.

“You’ve been sleeping fine, aibou. I’ve been there every night, you’re falling asleep hours earlier than usual and you barely get up to your alarm. And I saw you taking painkillers yesterday.”

“It’s just for a headache, it’s not …”

Aibou trailed off and fidgeted. For the first time, Yami actually wished that their link was still intact so he could force his way through it, _see_ what was wrong if Aibou wouldn’t tell him. He hadn’t done that since the early days, back when he hadn’t _known_ they weren’t his memories to dig through. And he had sworn, once he recognized them as separate beings, that he would never betray Aibou’s trust and sort through his mind without permission.

He still wouldn’t. Probably.

But if Aibou wouldn’t tell him what was wrong, and he kept getting worse …

“We should stay home today,” he said at last. “You can get some rest.”

Aibou jolted and shook his head. “No … no, I’m fi—”

“Don’t lie to me, aibou,” Yami cut him off, harsher than he had intended, though Aibou knew him well enough not to flinch.

He wasn’t angry. Not at Aibou, at least. He wasn’t sure if it was even possible for him to get angry at Aibou. But he couldn’t just take over now and make Aibou sleep if he refused—not that he would have done that anyway unless the situation demanded it. And being in his own body seemed to be making him more helpless than powerful when it came to keeping his aibou healthy and safe.

Aibou sighed in overdramatic defeat.

“Alright, I might be coming down with something,” he said with a sheepish smile. “But that shouldn’t stop you. You’ve been planning this for a week.”

Yami lowered his brow. “ _We’ve_ been planning this for a week. I won’t go without you.”

“Then I’ll—”

“No, you _won’t_ come, aibou,” Yami cut him off. Despite his determination, his face couldn’t help but soften, looking at Aibou with his droopy eyes and nervous smile. He laid a hand on his shoulder, looking him over again. “It’ll just make you worse. Maybe we should go to the doctor …”

“I’m _fine,_ mou hitori no boku.” Aibou reached up a hand as if to push his off, but instead, he simply laid it over Yami’s. He shrugged. “Or … I will be. It’s probably just a cold, or allergies.”

Yami hesitated. “How’s your blood sugar?”

Aibou rolled his eyes, but there was no true irritation behind it.

“I checked it an hour ago, it was fine,” he replied. “It’s no big deal if I miss today. Please, go have fun and tell me about it later. I want you to. I’ll be sad if you don’t go.”

And there it was. Combined with the puppy eyes, no less. Yami had never been able to deny his aibou a genuine request, not if he played the “I’ll be sad” card, not if he made those large violet eyes just a little bit bigger. They should try that in a duel and see if it wore their opponents down faster. Then again, maybe that was playing dirty.

Yami brought a hand to his forehead and sighed. Aibou couldn’t quite hide his tiny triumphant grin.

He stayed long enough to make sure that Aibou had plenty of snacks close to the couch, video games to play and movies to watch, even though they had played and watched almost everything. It took Aibou three tries to insist that he would be fine on his own, Jii-chan could help him if he needed it, and he was tired, not dying, before Yami finally listened. He couldn’t stop himself from glancing over his shoulder one more time as he left the living room. At last, he slipped through the game shop and walked out through the front door, to find Jounouchi-kun, Honda-kun and Anzu waiting outside.

All three turned to face him as the door fell shut with a ring of the bell, wide grins on their faces.

“Hi, Yuugi!” Jounouchi-kun said. He paused, brow furrowed as he looked over Yami’s shoulder. “Where’s … where’s the other Yuugi? Isn’t he coming, too?”

Yami looked away. “Aibou said he’s not feeling well. But … he wants us to go without him.”

Honda-kun’s brow rose.

“What? Is he sick?”

Yami wasn’t sure whether to nod or shake his head, so he just ended up shrugging. “He says it’s nothing serious … I don’t know if I believe him.”

Anzu’s brow tilted in, her eyes gleaming with obvious concern.

“Maybe we should stay here,” she said after a short pause.

“That’s what I told him,” Yami replied.

Jounouchi-kun and Anzu hummed, but Honda-kun asked, “Is Jii-san home?”

Yami lifted his head.

“Yes.”

Honda-kun nodded. “You know he’ll take good care of him. And if we go ahead, we could pick up some souvenirs for him, then come back early.”

Anzu smiled, even though she still looked a bit concerned, and Jounouchi-kun’s whole face lit up as if it had been him with the idea in the first place.

“Yeah! Yuugi’d love that. We could get him some booster packs. He hasn’t gotten any new cards in a while.”

Yami hesitated. “He does enjoy that …”

Even with his reservations, the decision had clearly been made, and he wasn’t going to go against it. Besides, it made more sense: this way, they’d have more fun, new stuff to do than if they just went up there now.

He didn’t want to leave Aibou. They were apart often enough for school. He pursed his lips and held his head high. No. He was being ridiculous. If he and Aibou were going to live in separate bodies permanently, if they were going to live full lives like that—another sixty years, at the very least—he would have to get used to them being apart at some point.

Though he hoped it would never be for very long.

His friends fell into their normal chatter as they walked through town. They tried to draw Yami into it once or twice, and he always replied, but never with anything longer than a sentence. These were his friends, and he knew he should have been comfortable around them. And he _was._

But somehow, without Aibou present, he felt almost naked. And as hard as all three of them tried to ask him questions about himself, what he was doing with his day, he had very little to say. So he did his best to make up for his near-silence by asking Anzu how her search for dancing schools in New York was going, and though she gave him a slightly worried look, she was all too happy to answer. The conversation shifted away from him, and he hated that he felt so relieved.

When the arcade came into sight, he didn’t notice the young man standing in front of the doors until he started waving, looking closer to five than sixteen.

“Hey guys!”

Yami blinked, only mildly surprised to find Malik waiting for them with a wide grin that had been strange two weeks ago, but now was all too normal.

Jounouchi-kun grinned back. “Malik, you made it!”

“Of course!” Malik glanced through the glass doors with eager eyes. “I made sure to leave this afternoon free. I’ve never been to an arcade before!”

A bit of the tension that had built up in Yami’s chest slipped away as Jounouchi-kun patted Malik on the back and led him inside, making all sorts of grand promises about the arcade that made it sound like KaibaLand. Honda-kun snickered and Anzu rolled her eyes, shaking her head, and Yami followed the four of them through the doors, allowing his worries to fade.

Aibou had mentioned once how nice it was to see Malik so eager, so happy to get involved in the simple goings-on of everyday life, and Yami found himself watching him now, smiling like Aibou would have smiled. Long gone was the power-hungry opponent ready to get his revenge no matter who he sacrificed in the process. Maybe Malik would never be a normal teenager, but he could at least enjoy himself now, struggling to beat Honda-kun at a virtual boxing game, laughing with Jounouchi-kun over their mutual failure to win stuffed animals from the crane machine, and even learning the basics of that dance battle game from Anzu.

Yes. Aibou would have loved to see that. It was him who had insisted they try to save the original Malik when his other personality had taken over, when saving Malik might have meant Aibou losing his soul in the process. It was Aibou’s mercy that gave the youngest Tomb Keeper a second chance.

But Aibou wasn’t here.

Yami tried, he really _tried_ to have a good time. He tried to play arcade games and laugh with his friends. But every time he began to have fun, he found himself looking to his side, searching for the head of spiky hair that should have been there, but wasn’t. After half an hour, he gave up, and just stood on the sidelines watching everyone else have a good time, brushing off his friends’ many attempts to get him to join in, claiming that he was tired. He didn’t mind watching. He had watched for a long time, and it was familiar.

Besides, it wasn’t like he wouldn’t be able to have fun later. He was staying. He had all the time in the world.

They had finally told Ishizu their decision the day before. She looked only a little surprised, but it was hard to tell whether she had actually expected it, or if she was just maintaining her usual facade of calm. She told them that she would continue to search for answers while she was there, because even if they had come to enjoy their new lives, they hadn’t planned this, and she wanted to make sure that it wasn’t part of some larger plot.

Yami couldn’t help but be a little grateful for that, even if he didn’t tell Aibou. He meant what he said. He wanted to stay. But physical bodies didn’t just show up out of thin air, and if he had changed his mind on discovering his own past in exchange for a future here, he at least wanted to know what had given him that chance.

As for telling all their friends, Yami was waiting for Aibou to decide what he wanted to do. Yami probably would have just told them as flat-out as they had told Ishizu, but he figured Aibou would want to make some big surprise of it, and if that was what Aibou wanted, Yami wasn’t going to spoil his fun.

They left after forty-five minutes, starting out of the arcade and toward the nearest card shop. Anzu had managed to win a stuffed panda for Aibou from the crane machine, and Malik offered to pay for a few booster packs.

“Do you know if his deck has changed much since I saw him duel?” he asked. “Or would he like a different kind of booster pack?”

Jounouchi-kun had just opened his mouth to reply when his pocket began to ring with an embarrassingly loud pop song. Honda-kun snickered. Jounouchi-kun glared, then dug out his phone, flipped it open and brought it to his ear.

“Yeah?”

The whole group went silent, but as much as Yami strained his ears, he couldn’t make out what was being said. Something seemed familiar about the voice, though. Something—

Jounouchi-kun’s smile disappeared.

“… yeah … _what_?!” he yelled, making all of them jump. His eyes had gone wide, panicked, pained. “When? Is he … uh-huh … we’ll come over …”

Yami listened. Something was wrong. Something was _very_ wrong. His chest felt funny, his stomach lurched, and his head spun. After another few seconds, Jounouchi-kun hung up, not even bothering to put the phone back in his pocket. He just stood there, his arms limp at his sides, his eyes locked on the ground in front of him.

“Jounouchi, say something!” Honda-kun broke in. “What’s wrong?”

Jounouchi-kun almost dropped the phone. He wouldn’t look at them. Why wouldn’t he look at them?

“Yuugi,” Jounouchi-kun said, voice flat yet somehow shaky. Yami’s whole body froze. Jounouchi-kun shook his head, brow furrowed as his face twisted in growing emotion. “He … collapsed. Just blacked out. He’s at the hospital.”

It sounded like the words were coming from a thousand kilometers away, but Yami made them out like they had been spoken directly into his head.

His feet were moving before he had time to think.

“Hey, Yuugi!” Jounouchi-kun called after him as he broke into a run, down the sidewalk, in the direction Aibou’s memories told him the hospital would be. “Wait up!”

But Yami didn’t wait. He didn’t stop. His new lungs burned, his heart pounded faster than this body’s ever had, it hurt, but he wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.

Aibou. _Aibou._


	9. Chapter 9

Yami hadn’t spoken since he got to the hospital.

He wanted to. He wanted to scream and rant and curse, but his brain failed him, and the only word that came to mind, over and over again, was _Aibou._

Aibou, Aibou, _Aibou._

Aibou, lying motionless on a small white bed, a mask over his nose and mouth, his clothes replaced by a simple white gown, wires pressed to his chest, linking him to machines beeping nearby. Jii-chan standing next to the bed, staring down at him with the saddest eyes Yami had seen on his face. Sadder than when he lost the Blue-Eyes. Sadder than when he had been trapped inside a card.

Jounouchi-kun, Honda-kun and Anzu all waited nearby, Anzu sniffling, Honda-kun biting his lip, Jounouchi-kun trying not to cry. And Yami couldn’t do _anything._

He wanted to fling himself onto Aibou’s bed and hold him and _make_ him get better, but his legs had forgotten how to move.

Honda-kun was the first one to sigh, shattering the silence that had overwhelmed the room since they all arrived.

“Jii-san?” he asked.

Jii-chan shook his head.

“They’re not sure,” he said, sounding his age and ten years more. “They can’t find anything wrong with him. His blood sugar is normal, he’s been taking his medication, he’s always been so good about it. But his heart rate’s low, and his blood pressure, and …”

His breath hitched, and he reached down and took one of Aibou’s small hands in his own.

“Ojii-san …” Anzu breathed, her voice as pained as Jii-chan’s face. Her mouth hung open for a few seconds, but finally she closed it, as if whatever she had been about to say no longer mattered.

It was a fairly large room, but crowded with all five of them there. The nurse hadn’t wanted to let them in, staring at their large group like hoard of small, very dirty children who would put their grubby hands all over the nice, sterile environment. Malik had left in the end to make it easier, telling them that he could go back to the hotel and get Ishizu and Rishid.

Yami’s sense of time blurred. He didn’t notice when someone brought in chairs and everyone sat down. Jii-chan had taken the chair closest to the bed, of course, and Yami didn’t protest. By some silent consent, he was sitting second-closest, close enough to reach out and lay a hand on Aibou’s foot. But he didn’t.

He just stared at Aibou, breathing in and out, his pale, fragile body tucked under white sheets.

He could barely remember anything before Aibou solved the Puzzle. But there were hints, little wisps of memory teasing along the edges of his mind. Everything had been dark. But not dark like he knew now, when night came and the lights went out. The most intense darkness he had experienced since his release didn’t even compare. Darkness here was an absence of light. Back then, it had been _Darkness,_ something in and of itself. Tangible. Real. The Darkness that scared away the light.

Trapping him for so long his sense of time, of self, of everything, had disappeared altogether.

But in those last moments before the Puzzle was complete—moments he had later learned had made up eight years—he had caught glimpses of something other than the Dark. He had no name for it, no words at all. But he knew it was important. Essential. He felt brushes of warmth, of comfort, of Light, perhaps Aibou’s tiny fingers trying to fit together pieces without luck. There was affection, and pain, and those precious moments of Light became his whole world.

Then the feelings intensified, all at once, Light grasping him and tugging at him even as he felt the Dark tugging back. And with those feelings, came the need to protect, to cherish, to care. Something was hurting the Light. No. Nothing could hurt the Light. He wouldn’t let it. Protect. Guard. Avenge.

His nonexistent body twitched and ached in those last moments, begging, pleading, must protect, must escape, must—

And he was free.

Just like that he surged forward, the Dark falling away, the Light enveloping him, overwhelming him, drowning him, and it hurt but it was so _right._

The Light. He was the Light.

And someone had wronged him. Someone had trespassed on his heart, and he would make them pay.

It hadn’t taken him long to realize there was a difference between the Light and him.

He didn’t know how much of a difference. At first, he only knew that sometimes he was awake, and the rest of the time, the Light took over, and he watched and rested. He protected the Light, but the Light knew nothing of him. That was fine. That was good. The Light did not like pain, would not like to see what he had done to those who had wronged him. But bit by bit, he recognized that there was a line between them. Faint and fuzzy, but still there. The Light was one side, and he was the other.

The Light was Mutou Yuugi. And he … he was the Other Yuugi. _Yami no Yuugi._

And he loved Yuugi.

He barely knew what love was. Love was what he felt for Jii-chan, for Anzu, Jounouchi-kun, Honda-kun. But his love for his other self knew no bounds. He didn’t know where it had come from, why it was there, but it was _right_ and he did not question it.

He loved him, but he did not listen to him.

Every time he took over, he tucked him away like a delicate treasure, deep in his heart where nothing would hurt him. He didn’t need his help to punish their enemies, didn’t need his help to do anything. He was fine on his own. He protected, and the other Yuugi, the _first_ Yuugi, watched and waited in safety.

Until Pegasus.

Suddenly, Yuugi wasn’t just Yuugi, just his other self, just the vessel holding a nameless spirit. He was clever, he was brave, he was quick-thinking and kind and stronger than he could have imagined. He was his partner. His aibou.

And Yami almost lost him.

Again and again. And each time, he felt the painful reminder of how deeply he loved the boy who had solved the Puzzle. When he had felt the Puzzle reassembled in the fire, felt Aibou pass out from the smoke, when Aibou’s body was almost devoured by the shadows, when his soul was ripped away to feed the Leviathan … He doubted more and more that he could exist without him, even if someone else solved the Puzzle, even if someone else became the vessel for his soul.

Now Aibou lay unconscious. Weakened and pale and so, so small … and there was nothing Yami could do.

If Aibou died … what was he supposed to _do_?

The door opened, and on reflex, everyone stood up. Everyone but Jii-chan, who seemed to have glued himself to his chair, and Yami, who didn’t think he could have moved unless someone dragged him up.

A woman with deep bronze skin and long black hair poked her head in, two young men close behind her.

“Ishizu-san!” Anzu breathed, something like relief in her voice.

Ishizu bowed her head. “May we come in?”

To everyone’s surprise, it was Jii-chan who nodded, his attention shifted from his grandson to the guests, even as he continued to clutch Aibou’s hand.

“Yes, of course.”

Ishizu stepped inside without another word. Malik and Rishid followed and pushed the door shut.

“Ojii-san, this is Ishizu-san,” Anzu said. “She … helped us with a lot of stuff during Battle City. This is her brother Rishid, and you’ve already met Malik.”

Jii-chan hummed, his eyes shifting to Malik. “Yes, you were the one who came over with Yuugi and his friends, weren’t you?”

“Thank you very much for your hospitality,” Malik replied, lowering his head in a small bow.

“Yes,” Ishizu added. “I appreciate you welcoming my brother into your home.”

Before she could say anything else, Jounouchi-kun pulled up a chair for her, and she sat down with a nod. Malik and Rishid both leaned up against the wall nearby.

Ishizu’s eyes had fallen on Aibou again, her face almost neutral, if not for the slight crease between her eyebrows.

“How is he doing?” she asked, turning back to the rest of the group.

Everyone exchanged silent looks, while Jii-chan merely touched his grandson’s arm. Yami wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear.

Anzu sighed. “Do you know what happened to him, Ishizu-san? Do you know why he’s …”

Her voice broke before she could finish. Ishizu looked at her with soft, sad eyes, the same eyes she had worn when Malik seemed to be lost forever, when the chances of ever getting her little brother back had slimmed to almost none.

She sighed.

“Over the past two weeks, I’ve searched through all the records available here, as well as those back in Egypt, and I’ve found very little that would explain the situation Yuugi and the pharaoh find themselves in.” She paused, her eyes drifting again to the bed, to Aibou’s unconscious body attached to the beeping machines. “But … I believe this incident may explain things.”

The whole group tensed. Something sparked in Yami’s head, waking up his whole body, and it was all he could do not to stand up, grab her shoulders and shout for her to go on.

“Well?” Jounouchi-kun broke in, his voice tinged with desperation. “Say something!”

“Jounouchi!” Anzu hissed.

“No, it’s alright,” Ishizu replied. She hesitated only a second longer. “I still can’t say anything for sure. The magic involved in this is very old, just like the Millennium Items, and it has not been used, to the best of my knowledge, for many centuries.”

She paused. Her eyes drifted, just for a moment, to Yami, before turning away again.

“I thought that the Millennium Puzzle might have done this of its own will, but now I doubt this is the case. I don’t believe the Puzzle would intentionally put its bearer in danger.”

Yami choked, and found his hand reaching up to grip said golden pendant, heedless of how the edges dug into his palm. He knew the Puzzle wasn’t him. He knew it was simply what had held his soul, what had kept him trapped for three thousand years, but it didn’t matter.

If the Puzzle had put Aibou in danger, didn’t that mean he—

No. Ishizu said it wasn’t that.

He hadn’t hurt Aibou. Not again.

Ishizu let out a slightly louder breath, almost a sigh, and Yami’s head jerked back up to face her.

“What I believe is more likely, given the current situation, is a spell,” she went on.

They all stared. Jii-chan straightened, but still didn’t let go of Aibou’s hand. Yami clenched his fingers around his pants, so he could feel his nails digging into his skin even through the fabric.

“A … spell?”

“What, like magic?” Jounouchi-kun asked, eyes wide. “ _Real_ magic?”

Honda side-eyed him. “Jounouchi, we’ve been dealing with _real magic_ for months now. How do you think Jii-san got stuck in a card?”

“Shut up and let Ishizu explain, Honda!”

Anzu sighed, putting a hand to her forehead, but her usual irritation dimmed the second she glanced at Aibou.

“Please continue, Ishizu-san.”

Ishizu’s face betrayed nothing, as calm as ever, but Yami recognized that faint look in her eyes from Battle City, as she warned them of all that was to come.

“There’s no way to be certain, as I’m afraid even when I had my Millennium Tauk I did not possess such powers. But I think it is very possible.” She paused, and looked to Aibou’s motionless figure on the bed. “Especially given that Yuugi is showing these symptoms.”

Yami almost jumped out of his chair.

“Symptoms? Symptoms of what? What’s happening to my aibou?!”

He could feel every hair on his body standing on end, his eyes wide and frenzied. Anzu flinched back, looking at him with the faint tinge of fear he had glimpsed during his duel with Haga on that train. But he couldn’t bring himself to calm down.

Ishizu’s eyes softened. “If I’m correct … his energy is being drained, and his body has become too weak to function properly.”

Silence filled the room like a thick, suffocating fog.

“Something is … stealing his energy?” Yami asked.

“Yes,” Ishizu replied. “The energy drain, I believe, began several weeks ago. At first, it would have had little effect on him, but as time passed, it would have grown more and more difficult for his body to sustain him.”

“So he collapsed,” Yami muttered, as much to himself as to everyone else. He ran the last few weeks over his head, again and again. He swallowed.“Would he … wouldn’t he have felt it? Before now?”

She met his eyes, a slight crease between her eyebrows. “Almost certainly.”

Jounouchi-kun clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. “Why didn’t he _say_ something? We could have helped him!”

“Really, Jounouchi?” Honda-kun asked, though Yami could hear the suppressed pain in his voice. “Do you know that much about ancient magic?”

Jounouchi-kun didn’t even glare.

“No, but we could have done _something_! Maybe Ishizu could have figured it out!”

“What’s draining him?” Yami cut in, scooting forward so much he almost fell out of his chair.

Ishizu sighed.

“Though I’m unsure of the specific spell, if I’m correct about the _kind_ of spell … it was draining Yuugi in order to fuel another body. A body that had not existed before, and one that didn’t have the power to sustain itself independently.”

Ishizu had always been one to state the facts, albeit very vaguely and mysteriously, without sugar-coating them or beating around the bush. But now, she barely met Yami’s eyes, as if, after everything that had happened, she couldn’t bear to lay this on his shoulders as well.

But Yami knew. And in only a few seconds, the answer dawned on his friends’ faces, one by one.

It was Anzu who shifted first, blinking and clenching her fists in her lap. “… the other Yuugi?”

Yami felt all the air leave his lungs in one breath. It took him five seconds to remember how to inhale again. His mouth felt dry.

“So I was … this whole time, I was … and now he …”

“Yuugi, you can’t blame yourself,” Anzu cut him off, pushing herself out of her chair, taking a step toward him. “You didn’t _do_ anything! Whoever cast this spell is the one who hurt the other Yuugi. You—”

“How do we break it?”

Anzu went silent at Yami’s sudden question, his attention now focused on Ishizu. Ishizu blinked.

“I’m sorry?”

“How do we break the spell?” he asked, or demanded, whichever would get answers faster. “If we break it, will my aibou get his energy back? Will he be safe?”

Ishizu hesitated. “I can’t be sure, but … I believe so.”

Jounouchi-kun and Honda-kun exchanged silent glances, and Malik looked more uncomfortable than ever by the wall. Rishid stood rigid and stoic as always, but Yami watched him put a careful hand on Malik’s shoulder. Jii-chan stared at Aibou, though Yami knew he was listening just as much as the rest of them.

Anzu bit her lip.

“But Yuugi … Ishizu-san said that the energy drain is what’s keeping you _alive._ If it stops …”

She trailed off, and he watched the pain grow in her eyes. And for a second, he snapped out of his haze of blind determination and remembered that these were his friends. His closest friends, who had stood by him through everything. Who didn’t want to lose anyone else. He sighed.

“I’m not alive, Anzu. I haven’t been alive for three thousand years,” he replied. He pursed his lips and lowered his brow. “ _Aibou’s_ alive. And he’s _dying_.”

The whole group flinched as one. Yami jerked his head to face Ishizu again.

“Isn’t he?”

Everyone turned to face her. Ishizu sat firm even under the pressure of five sets of eyes. The face of a woman who had been to hell and back and went about telling everyone else how to avoid suffering as she did. She gave a slow, solemn nod.

“Yes. Eventually the drain will become too much for Yuugi’s body to handle. I don’t believe it’s imminent, he would likely remain unconscious for some time before …”

She didn’t finish. Yami wasn’t sure if she could. Her eyes drifted to the boy on the bed, and for a second, he could read the ache in her eyes, the genuine concern for the person who had saved her brother. The person who had _really_ saved her brother.

“Then how do we break it?” Yami asked, as gently as he could.

Ishizu shook her head. “I’m not sure yet.”

“We have to find out,” Yami said, his fingers twitching toward his belt as if he might find his deck there, as if his deck would do one _iota_ of good right now. “Where do I look? How do I find it? The Puzzle, can it—”

“I will begin looking right away,” Ishizu cut him off, pushing herself up from her chair. “Now that I know what to look for, it shouldn’t take me long to find something.”

She did not look particularly convinced, but she also didn’t look like she would tell him a pretty lie just to keep him calm.

Silence hovered over the group. Part of Yami wanted to scream for Ishizu to tell him what to do, how to do it, how he could help, _what the hell was he supposed to do_ … but his voice had frozen in his throat. He wasn’t sure if he could have moved if he tried.

Ishizu could fix this. But what if she couldn’t? What would happen to Aibou?

Jounouchi-kun huffed a sigh.

“I don’t get it,” he murmured, as much to himself as to them. He shook his head. “It’s a spell, but _who_ cast it?”

“I told you guys it was only a matter of time before some bad guy showed up,” Honda-kun muttered.

“Yeah, but don’t they usually actually, y’know, _show up_?” Jounouchi-kun huffed. “Usually to duel us? I haven’t seen any Ghouls or weird guys on motorcycles lately.”

“We can’t do anything about that right now,” Anzu cut in. Though Yami could see the pain in her eyes, hear it in her voice, she held herself firm, ever the mature leader even at the worst of times. “It’s like Ishizu-san said. We need to figure out how to counter the spell before Yuugi …”

She trailed off. Her eyes shifted to the boy on the bed, then to Yami, her brow creased in growing concern.

“Yuugi?” she asked.

Yami pursed his lips, gritted his teeth, and pushed himself out of his chair.

“We need to get started.”

 

*

 

It had been three days. Three days, and not a single answer.

He knew Ishizu had been trying as hard as she could. She barely slept, it seemed, going in and out of the hospital room until visiting hours ended and showing up again as soon as they let her in, clearly having spent at least a few more hours researching. She had already contacted ten different museums, several of which she had never even worked with before, but who she had convinced to send her photos of tablets and scrolls. Nothing.

Yami knew Malik and Rishid had been working almost as hard, even though they usually stayed at the hotel while Ishizu came to report their findings. Anzu had tried to convince all of them to take a break, especially when she noticed the bags under Ishizu’s eyes, but Ishizu refused, and insisted the three of them weren’t going to stop until they had found a solution. Anzu didn’t try again after that.

She, Jounouchi-kun, Honda-kun, and especially Jii-chan spent most of their time in the hospital room, visiting in the morning briefly and returning for the afternoon and evening after school or running the shop. They brought flowers to refresh the dying ones by the bed, and Anzu had arranged the stuffed panda she had won on the table next to the vase, facing Aibou, as if to watch over him. The Puzzle, except during the brief times when Yami put it on, sat just to its left.

Yami, with no school to go to or work to complete, and no way of helping Ishizu’s investigation, hadn’t left the hospital since he first arrived.

No matter how everyone tried to convince him to go back to the game shop, to get some real rest, he stayed. He had taken one or two quick showers in a nearby bathroom, but rushed out as soon as he was decently clean, scrambling to get back to Aibou’s side. Jii-chan had convinced the staff to move a cot in for him—and he suspected that Anzu had called Kaiba and gotten him to pull some strings, though more likely Mokuba was the one to actually do it. He was too distracted to thank her. He spent his days sitting at Aibou’s side, holding his hand, or pacing around the room.

And every night he curled up in the cot, close enough to the bed so that he could still clutch Aibou’s hand, and laid there until exhaustion dragged him into sleep.

He never slept long. And every time he woke to nightmares of Aibou’s soul being ripped from his body, carried away by the Orichalcos and leaving him cold and empty and alone.

Alone. Even when all their friends were there, breaking hospital rules and crowding into the room at the same time, he was always alone.

On Friday, Jii-chan brought take-out for all of them, and they ate in silence, having long given up on making small talk to pass the time. They jumped when Ishizu arrived, but the sad look on her face dimmed their hopeful expressions before she had even closed the door behind her.

“I’ve found spells used to imprison souls, partial or complete, in magical objects, souls to give corporeal form to separate aspects of a single soul, spells to communicate with the dead,” she said, and now Yami had no doubt that she was afraid, that she had no idea what was going to happen, as much as she tried to hide it. “But I’ve found none used to give a full, functional body to a spirit that had died. It likely wasn’t considered. The ancient Egyptians focused on preparing for the afterlife, not returning to the living world from the dead.”

The silence hung over the room for a good minute after that, everyone’s food forgotten.

“So you’ve found _some_ spells,” Jounouchi-kun replied. “Spells that are close.”

Ishizu nodded. “Yes. But none that match.”

Jounouchi-kun gritted his teeth and stepped forward. It might have looked like a threat if everyone there hadn’t known he would never lay a hand on Ishizu.

“Then why can’t you just _try_ one of them?” he demanded. “You said you’re looking for one to _break_ the spell, so it wouldn’t do any harm if it’s not the right one!”

Honda-kun had already opened his mouth to agree when Yami shook his head.

“Yes, Jounouchi-kun. It could.”

The fire in Jounouchi-kun’s eyes dimmed, and he turned to face Yami in the chair he had claimed since that morning. He blinked.

“Huh?”

Ishizu sighed. “The magic we’re dealing with is old and volatile. As I’ve said. If we try the wrong spell, it could cause further harm to Yuugi. And in his current state—”

“No,” Yami cut in, his tone biting, leaving no room for compromise, no room for disagreement. “We’re not trying anything. Not yet.”

Jounouchi-kun hesitated, then huffed and left the room, slamming the door so hard the walls trembled. No one said a word for a very long time. Jounouchi-kun never came back to get his half-eaten meal.

That night, after Jii-chan and the others had left, Yami slipped into the bed at Aibou’s side, resting his head just above Aibou’s shoulder and reaching a hand over his thin body to stroke his arm.

“I can’t lose you, aibou,” he whispered. He didn’t notice the tears in his eyes until they dripped onto the pillow. He let out a shuddering sigh and squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m not strong enough. I’m not strong enough to lose you.”

He waited. But all he heard was the beep of the machines and the faint whoosh of Aibou’s breath.

His throat clenched, and he had just enough time to turn and bury his head into the pillow before the tears streamed out in full, his voice choking out in sobs like he hadn’t felt since Aibou’s soul was stolen away by his own mistake.

When a nurse came in an hour later to check on him, he was already laying in his cot, his eyes locked on Aibou’s motionless face, his hand stretched across the space between their beds to rest on the boy’s small, pale fingers.

The next day was Saturday, and without school, Jounouchi-kun, Honda-kun and Anzu were in the room as soon as visiting hours began. Jii-chan came shortly after with breakfast, having guessed—correctly—that none of the three had eaten. He already knew that Yami wouldn’t eat unless the food was placed right in front of him, so he didn’t have to leave Aibou’s bedside for a second longer than necessary.

They ate in near-silence. No update had come from Ishizu yet. Occasionally, the others would talk, murmuring about possible options—there were none—and whether things were looking any better—they weren’t. Aibou’s vitals were still stable, but Yami swore his heart beat just a little slower than it had yesterday, and he took a second longer to take in each breath.

Everyone talked, and he listened to the machines, to the tiny sounds of life. He listened to his friends grasping for thin strands of hope, just as he felt his own begin to fade.

Aibou was dying.

If he didn’t do something soon, Aibou _would_ die.

And it would be his fault. _His_ body that was soaking up energy. _His_ body that drained Aibou’s strength. Even now, the energy flowed from Aibou to him, and he _couldn’t stop it._ He would have brought a knife to his chest if he thought it would do any good, but what if that didn’t work, what if the magic kept flowing to his dead body and Aibou—

“I can’t do it,” he breathed. He felt everyone’s eyes jerk around to face him, heard their sharp gasps, but he couldn’t take his gaze off the motionless figure on the bed. His eyes burned, his throat clenched, everything hurt. He shook his head. “I can’t … if I can’t fix this, my aibou will … but I …”

He clamped his mouth shut as his voice threatened to break. He felt a careful touch on his shoulder, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Anzu leaning close to him, her face pinched in pain.

“We’ll figure something out. We’ll find a way to save him, Yuugi.”

Yami’s hands tightened at his sides.

“But what if we can’t?” he muttered, as much to himself as to her. “I’ve only been without him once, Anzu. And you saw how that went.”

She let her hand fall from his shoulder. “You got him back.”

“Barely!” Yami shouted. Anzu flinched, and his chest ached at the sight, but he couldn’t bring himself to apologize. “And that was a _duel,_ I _knew_ what to do! I can _do_ that! If this was a duel, a _game,_ I could just find the right strategy, understand my opponent, learn how to fight them, but there _is_ no opponent! Aibou is dying, and it’s because _I’m_ killing him!”

His voice echoed back to his ears, repeating itself a hundred times over, though he knew it was in his own head and not in the room. Dying. Killing. Aibou …

“And I can’t save him,” he breathed, the weight of it crushing him, almost forcing him to his knees. “I … I promised I’d protect him. When I first woke up, that was all I knew, I _had_ to keep him safe. After Dartz, I swore I’d never let him get hurt because of me again. And now my aibou is going to die and it’s _my_ fault!”

He felt the tears again, scratching at the backs of his eyes, aching to get out, but this time he didn’t let them. He had already cried enough. What good had crying ever done? He had cried, _screamed_ for Aibou’s loss to the Orichalcos, cried when he lost him again after their duel in the valley, and nothing had come of it.

Nothing. There was nothing he could do.

He didn’t hear the footsteps until they were right in front of him, and he didn’t hear Anzu’s shout of protest until Jounouchi-kun had grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and hoisted him up, so high his toes barely touched the floor.

He stared into Jounouchi-kun’s burning eyes, his clenched teeth, his face so close Yami could feel his breath huffing against his cheeks.

“You listen here!” Jounouchi-kun spat. “I don’t care if you’re a king or a pharaoh or the friggin’ Emperor of Japan! You’re _Yuugi_! No matter what your real name is, no matter who you used to be, you’ll always _be_ Yuugi! If you run into a brick wall, you tell it off and kick it down! You never let anyone push you around and you _never_ let anyone beat you, whether it’s another duelist or ancient magic or whatever! You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met! You’ve picked me back up more times than I count, when I thought there was _no way_ I could win, and I’m not letting you give up now!”

He panted, and the fury in his eyes began to fade, peeling away to reveal the pain buried underneath. Slowly, he set Yami back on the ground, letting go of his shirt and taking a step back. He stared at the floor, his lips pursed as if to hold back tears as Honda-kun laid a hand on his shoulder. Anzu gripped her arms, her shoulders trembling, her hair fallen over her face.

Yami finally drew a shaking breath when he realized his lungs were burning for air. He swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Jounouchi-kun … I just …”

“… mou … h’tori n … boku …”

All their heads jerked toward the voice, Yami’s so fast he almost heard his neck crack. But he didn’t care. A set of bloodshot, tired violet eyes were locked on him, droopy and blinking, but awake. _Awake._

“Aibou!”

“Yuugi?”

“Yuugi!”

In a panic, Anzu pressed the button next to the bed. It seemed like only seconds had passed before the nurses and doctors rushed in, and Yami and his friends were ushered into the hallway. It took all Yami had not to draw on his old shadow powers—if he could even use them in this body, it wasn’t like he had tried—and force them all away.

Aibou. They wouldn’t let him be with Aibou.

But then Anzu put a hand on his shoulder, her face pinched and concerned and just as worried as his, and the powers churning inside him settled.

Half an hour later, Jii-chan was allowed back inside, and ten minutes after that, the nurses finally, albeit reluctantly, allowed the rest of them to enter, insisting that if he got the least bit sleepy, they had to leave right away, and that so many visitors at one time wouldn’t do him any good.

Jounouchi-kun looked like he wanted to punch the doctor for that comment alone, but he just followed the rest of them in, fuming and silent.

Aibou was more awake by then, the oxygen mask removed, though he still laid back against the pillows, apparently unable to lift his head for more than a few seconds at a time. He looked like he might fall asleep at any second, but he talked to everyone nonetheless, listened as they held back tears and told him how worried they had been and asked how was he feeling and a dozen other questions Yami paid no attention to. The whole time, he just stood there at the foot of the bed and watched every tiny movement Aibou made, burning each one into the back of his head.

Yami didn’t ask them to leave. But after a good fifteen minutes of constant chatter, they did anyway. Or, rather, Anzu gathered up Jounouchi-kun and Honda-kun and herded them out of the room, ignoring all their insistences that they needed to stay here with Aibou. Jii-chan followed without a word or protest, casting one more sad smile at the boy on the bed, which Aibou returned with all the strength he possessed.

Then the door closed, and they were alone.

They didn’t speak. Yami had wanted nothing more than to talk to his aibou for the past three days, but now that he could, words failed him. After a minute’s silence, Aibou offered him a small, tired smile, and Yami found himself walking forward, closing the small space between them. He laid down on the bed as he had the night before, only now Aibou shifted his own body to make room, and Yami found himself tucked against his side, just as the two of them had slept for more than two weeks.

It should have comforted him. But it didn’t. It made him want to cry and scream and beg gods he knew he had once believed in to save the one most precious to him. He tilted his head to look into Aibou’s eyes, reached out to touch his face with the reverent care with which he might cradle a butterfly.

The same care the eight-year-old boy had used when he first examined the shattered pieces of the Millennium Puzzle.

“Jounouchi-kun was wrong, aibou,” Yami whispered, stroking the backs of his fingers over Aibou’s cheek, treasuring the feel of the warm, soft skin against his own. “You’re far stronger than I’ll ever be.”

Aibou pursed his lips, eyes pained.

“That’s not true. I’ve … I’ve always wanted to be as strong as you.”

Yami huffed a humorless, breathy laugh and rested his hand over the side of Aibou’s face. “Then that’s something else we’ve got in common.”

They lay there in silence for a long time after that. When they had the link, their thoughts and feelings flowed between them like merging rivers, blocked off in some places if there was something they didn’t want to share, but always present, always _together._ Even now, cut off from each other, entirely separate, there were things that simply needed no words.

Yami closed his eyes and drowned out the beeping of the machines nearby, focusing on the sound of Aibou’s breath, the feel of his heartbeat, the rush of blood beneath his warm skin. Alive. Aibou was still alive, and Yami tried, tried so hard to tell himself that as long as he was here, Aibou would stay that way.

But Aibou’s life hadn’t even been in danger before he came along.

He gritted his teeth, pursed his lips, and drew in a deep breath through his nose. Aibou’s scent, every unique nuance he had memorized over the past three weeks, filled his lungs. Everything would be fine. Everything _had_ to be fine.

“Do you remember what Ishizu-san talked about?” Aibou murmured into the near-silence, his voice still so quiet, so weak it hurt to listen to. “When she first got here?”

Yami opened his eyes. He swallowed every bit of overwhelming sadness that threatened to leak out in his tone. “About the different parts of the soul?”

“Yeah. In Egyptian religion.” Aibou fell silent for almost a minute, and at first Yami thought he had fallen asleep, or simply decided not to go on. Then he drew in a deeper breath, shaking his head. “I’ve never really thought about it, but … it’s funny. The idea that there could be these five separate parts, but they’re all … part of one.”

But Aibou wasn’t just musing, thinking out loud to break the silence. Yami pushed himself up to look him in the eyes, brow furrowed.

“What are you thinking, aibou?”

Aibou broke his gaze almost as soon as he met it. He shook his head again.

“It’s silly. If we weren’t … whole … we wouldn’t have survived this long, would we? I mean, I know your soul was trapped in the Puzzle, but I lived almost seventeen _years_ before I solved it.”

He paused, but Yami could feel the words still in his throat. Aibou was too tired to stop himself now, and Yami listened, feeling all at once like he was trespassing on something sacred and wrapped in a long, warm embrace.

“But … when I did … something changed,” Aibou went on. “I mean, I had friends, of course, but … something else was different. I could never put a name on it.”

He ran his teeth over his bottom lip, and tilted his head so his eyes rested on Yami, soft and filled with love.

“And then I met you.” He swallowed, so hard that Yami felt his neck move against him. “And … it’s like everything that had ever been missing in my life, in _me,_ it was … there. In you.”

Yami held him tighter. It felt like they could never be close enough. There were mere centimeters between them, but still that was like a continent away.

“The things I couldn’t do, you could,” Aibou murmured. “And … the things you couldn’t do—it took me so long to believe there was _anything_ you couldn’t do—I could do them instead.”

Another pause. Then Aibou let out a long, heavy breath.

“I was Yuugi, and you were Yuugi, and together we were …”

“Whole,” Yami finished, before silence could fall.

Aibou stared down at him a few seconds longer, Yami staring back then. Finally, Aibou huffed a laugh and looked away, eyes locked on the ceiling once more.

“I know it sounds ridiculous.”

“It doesn’t. Not to me,” Yami replied. He held on a little tighter, nestling himself even closer to Aibou’s motionless body. “I don’t remember what life was like before you, aibou. But I can’t imagine life without you. And you … you seem to … complete me. Somehow. I don’t know how to describe it.”

He slipped his arm around to clutch one of Aibou’s small hands in his own.

Aibou looked at him out of the corner of his eye, the tiniest of smiles on his lips, though it still looked a bit sad. He squeezed Yami’s hand with all his drained strength.

“It would explain why we look so much alike,” he went on, his voice distant, rambling. “Probably. I mean, it seems like souls affect appearances, with that other version of Kaiba-kun on the tablet, so …”

Yami rubbed his thumb over Aibou’s wrist in a vain attempt at comfort, and Aibou hummed, brow furrowed in thought.

“And it would explain why the Puzzle picked me. Ishizu-san keeps saying it’s destiny, right? That I was _meant_ to solve the Puzzle? Meant to be your vessel?” He blinked, very slowly, as something seemed so dawn in his eyes. “Maybe … when your soul was sealed … maybe they didn’t seal all of it. I mean, it didn’t seal your name. What if … other parts were lost, too? And what if they … survived? And were reborn? What if—”

“Souls.”

The word fell from Yami’s lips almost before he realized he was thinking it. Aibou tilted his head to face him again. “Wha—“

“The same soul,” Yami murmured, cutting him off.

His eyes grew wider by the second. His brain, still so tired from lack of sleep and food, exhausted from the worry that had ravaged his body for the past few days, raced as fast as it could manage. His breath sped up.

Aibou watched him with growing concern. “Mou hitori no boku?”

“The same soul!” Yami burst as it clicked at last. He jumped out of the bed, barely remembering to let go of Aibou’s hand in time. He wobbled on his feet, but forced himself to stand. “There was something … something Ishizu said … I have to find her. I think I can fix this!”

He heard Aibou’s voice calling after him, but for once, he didn’t turn around. He didn’t stop, or even slow down. He ran out of the room as fast as his legs would carry him, the tiniest glimmer of hope flickering in the back of his mind.

Maybe. Just maybe, this would work.


	10. Chapter 10

He could have called Ishizu. He had her number—she had written it down just in case he needed it. But he didn’t call her. He ran out of the hospital and through town, across streets when the light was red, and narrowly escaped being hit by a car twice until he stumbled at last into the lobby of the hotel. There, he pause for only a second before rushing into the elevator—ignoring the concerned calls of the employees—and up to the Ishtars’ room.

By the time Ishizu answered his pounding on the door, he had almost collapsed from exhaustion as his adrenaline rush crashed.

She tried to get him to sit down and drink some water before he explained, but he brushed off her concerns and went over everything in under a minute. Malik and Rishid had apparently gone to the grocery store, so only Ishizu was there to listen, standing just inside her hotel room with wide eyes. As soon as he finished, she strode to her desk and dug around in a pile of papers. Peering inside, he could see three unmade beds, papers strewn over the desk and some on the floor, the trashcan overflowing with crumpled-up notes. The bags under Ishizu’s eyes hadn’t gotten any better.

She returned with a small stack of scans, a pen, and her bag. Without a word, they started back to the hospital. Though Ishizu couldn’t run in her long dress, she walked as fast as her feet would carry her, and Yami reminded himself for the hundredth time to do something to thank her.

When they reached the hospital room, Aibou had pushed some pillows up behind him, and he managed a smile as he greeted Ishizu as if nothing was wrong. Ishizu’s whole face softened at the sight of him. As she asked about how he was doing, Yami pulled up a chair for her, then flopped down in his own beside the bed.

Ishizu didn’t make him wait any longer. She sat down, set her bag on the floor and the scans in her lap, and began.

“I searched through the records five times for a spell meant to give corporeal form to a spirit that had died too far in the past for their physical body to be resurrected. There were many spells that drained one party for the sake of the other, but none that seemed to fit your situation,” she said, her attention more on Aibou than Yami, given that the latter had been there through it all. “However, there was one spell I overlooked until now. A spell meant to give a corporeal form to different parts of the same soul.”

She looked between them, her eyes appraising, curious, and just a little bit hopeful.

“If you two are correct, then this is the spell that was cast on you.”

“By _who,_ though?” Aibou asked, more awake now, though Yami could still hear how he strained to keep himself conscious.

Ishizu shook her head.

“There is no way to tell. If your … attacker has not shown themselves by now, I doubt if they ever will.”

But while Aibou looked ready to ask more questions, to try and figure it out, Yami had grown so tense his fists were shaking. “Is there a way to reverse it?”

Ishizu turned to him, and for the first time in days, she looked pleased. She nodded.

“Yes. I’ve found a counter-spell that should reverse all the effects and return you both to your former states,” she replied. She paused, looking to each of them in turn. “Are you sure you want to try this? Nothing is guaranteed. If this was not the spell cast on you, it may cause damage.”

Yami hesitated. He looked to Aibou, who stared back blankly, having missed most of the explanations over the past few days.

If this went wrong … he didn’t know what would happen. It could make things worse. It could kill them both. It could do something irreparable to his soul, or far worse, to _Aibou’s._ But …

He looked at the machine. To all the wires hooked to Aibou’s small, thin body. To the paleness of the boy’s cheeks, far paler than before, the way he had to lean back on the pillows just so he could sit up. He had woken up, true. But who knew when he would fall asleep again. Who knew when the energy he had saved up would fail him. Who knew if he would ever wake up again. Yami swallowed hard and turned to Ishizu again.

“You think the chances are good? That it’s the right spell?”

Ishizu’s eyes spoke for her. “The best I’ve seen.”

Yami nodded. “Then let’s—”

“No.”

The voice made both of them turn at once, staring at the figure on the bed. Aibou tried to push himself up, but his arms still trembled, like Jii-chan’s overcooked ramen had replaced his bones. Yami took a step toward him, hands itching to steady him.

“Aibou?”

But Aibou was shaking his head now, his eyes tired, glazed over, but burning and desperate at the same time. “No, you … if you cast that spell, _you’ll die,_ mou hitori no boku!”

“And if we don’t cast it, aibou, _you’ll_ die,” Yami bit out.

Aibou flinched, and Yami’s chest clenched at the thought that he had scared him. Other people he could scare. Even if he no longer approved of using fear unless absolutely necessary, if he _had_ to, he would. But not Aibou. Never Aibou.

His face softened, his eyes narrowing with ache and overwhelming grief.

“And I won’t let you die. I won’t,” he breathed. He shook his head, limp and helpless. “I can’t.”

The room had never felt quite so silent. Yami swallowed three times, but the lump that had grown in his throat would not go away. He almost missed being a spirit. Then, all he felt was the emotion, and his body didn’t turn against him and stop him from getting out what he wanted to say.

Aibou’s face pinched.

“But … you finally had a chance,” he murmured, gripping the sheets with more strength than his tired, small hands should have held. “You were going to stay!”

Yami’s face went blank. “I know.”

Aibou huffed, reaching up to scratch through his hair like he did when in deep thought.

“Couldn’t we wait?” he asked, turning to Ishizu, then to Yami again. “Just … just a few days? Anzu said you’ve hardly left this hospital room, you’ve just been sitting here waiting for me to wake up. You should … take some time, spend it with our friends, have fun—”

“No.” Aibou paused, mouth still open, as Yami pursed his lips and clenched his fists at his sides. “You’re dying. Right now. You’ve been dying for _days,_ aibou! And if I wait a few more days, if I wait _one more day, you might really—!”_

Aibou didn’t flinch this time. Yami felt Ishizu’s eyes on him, but she said nothing, even as the echoes of his voice resounded back into his ears. He hadn’t realized he had been shouting.

He let out a long, trembling breath and looked at Aibou, his precious, amazing, irreplaceable aibou, and felt more love than he even knew he was capable of well up inside him. More love than he had ever felt for anyone else.

“I can’t risk that, aibou,” he whispered, though he had no doubt Aibou could hear. “And I can’t let you suffer.”

“I’m not suffering,” Aibou replied. But it sounded weak, like he didn’t believe it himself.

Yami pursed his lips. “Yes, you are.”

Aibou sighed.

“How do you know?” he asked. “We aren’t linked.”

Yami’s eyes grew soft. “We don’t need to be.”

Aibou opened his mouth, but whatever he had been about to say died in his throat. Yami turned to Ishizu and stood up straighter, like the king everyone promised him he once had been.

“What do I have to do?”

Ishizu paused, just for a moment. Then she nodded in acquiescence.

“It will have to be you to cast the spell,” she began. “Without my Millennium Tauk, I no longer possess the necessary magical abilities.”

She took out the scans she had brought with her, apparently detailing a particular spell she had found two days ago but hadn’t thought anything of until now. The hieroglyphics still looked like gibberish to him, even though he had spent three days while Aibou was at school looking through Jii-chan’s books on ancient Egyptian writing. But Ishizu was fluent, probably more fluent than anyone else who had been born in this time period, and she quickly wrote down the spell phonetically, and pointed out where he would need to pronounce sounds that didn’t exist in Japanese.

Yami felt Aibou’s eyes on him the whole time, but he forced himself not to turn around. He knew he would have to face him. But he could put it off just a little longer. Once he had gone through the spell with Ishizu three times, and was sure he had it exactly right, he went down to the reception desk to use their phone.

He called each of their friends, as well as Jii-chan, and in ten minutes, all of them had come back. They knew, almost before he had the chance to explain.

He couldn’t quite tell whether they were happy or sad. They smiled at him, smiled at Aibou, those smiles filled with relief that Aibou would be safe, would be alright, that everything would work out. But tears dripped down Anzu’s cheeks, and though Jounouchi-kun and Honda-kun tried to hide it, he saw their eyes glistening as well. Jii-chan just stared at him with a mix of gratitude and grief.

At first, he hadn’t wanted them to come. He had considered just going through with the spell without saying goodbye. Because it would hurt. He knew it would hurt, looking at them and knowing he would never be with them like this again. And just like that day as he left school to go the museum, he had thought it would be better to just have Aibou.

But he was wrong.

It _had_ hurt, of course. Even worse than he expected. But to see them again, to know that they were there to support, that they would still be there, in a different way, once the spell was done … he felt far less nervous, and far less alone.

He had Aibou. And he had all the others, too.

Jounouchi-kun grabbed him in a headlock and rubbed a knuckle against his skull. Honda-kun opened his mouth, then seemed to choke on tears as he settled for giving him a firm pat on the back. Anzu hesitated only a second before pulling him into a long, tight hug, and Jii-chan followed with the same, holding him, even rocking him a bit, like he were a small child about to do something very scary, and very brave.

Yami allowed himself a second, just a second, to pretend that he actually was his grandson. Then he pushed that thought away and locked it up before it could take root.

They left before he began the spell, just in case the magic somehow affected them. Only Ishizu stayed, and only because she insisted that while Yami had more magical abilities, she had more knowledge, and she could help him if something went wrong.

As soon as the room was empty but for the three of them, Yami opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, Ishizu nodded and sat down in one of the chairs closest to the opposite wall, facing the door. She probably would have gone outside if he requested it. But he didn’t. If she wasn’t there as a reminder, to tell him that he had a time limit, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t end up forgetting.

He sat down on the edge of Aibou’s bed without a word. Aibou stared back, and though he clearly tried as hard as he could not to cry, Yami could see the tears in his wide violet eyes. Before they could fall, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Aibou’s small body.

It took less than a second for Aibou to hug him back.

After three weeks of casual touches, three weeks of sitting together on the couch and sleeping nestled up against one another, maybe Yami should have grown used to it. But he hadn’t. Every touch, whether a brush of hands or a full on hug, sent a jolt of joy through his whole body, and each time, he never wanted to let go.

Because this was his aibou. _His_ aibou, that he could touch and hold with _his own_ hands. He could hear his heartbeat, feel the life and warmth against him, the smooth skin of his cheek, the sharp bone of his shoulder, the gusts of breath that smelled like hamburgers or pancakes or rice. He could feel the fingers that sometimes came up to stroke through his hair if he woke in the middle of the night. He could touch one particular spot on his stomach to make him laugh like mad, or clutch him so tight he swore that all their bones would shatter.

A shudder ran through Aibou’s body, his breath coming out like a sob, though he still did not cry. Yami only squeezed harder. He felt Ishizu glance at them, ever-patient, just one more minute, _just a few more seconds._

It was like prying open a metal can with his bare hands when he tried to let go. Whether it was because Aibou held too tightly, or because he did, he didn’t know. But at last, he stood beside the bed, and turned to Ishizu. With a nod that almost looked like a bow, she handed him the scans.

“Thank you,” he said, letting all the emotion welling up inside him leak out into his voice.

Ishizu looked at him, her eyes gleaming with sadness, but only nodded again in reply.

Yami put a hand on the Puzzle, where it still rested on the little table, and faced the bed, though he couldn’t bring himself to meet Aibou’s eyes. He took a deep breath and began to speak.

The words made no sense to him, but as they passed his lips, he felt the power behind them. Under his hand, the Puzzle glowed, very faintly, and he found the words forming more easily on his lips, like Aibou had once described riding a bike again after years without practicing. It made no sense at first, and you wondered how you ever managed it, but then something clicked, and you couldn’t understand how you ever forgot.

Tears dripped from Aibou’s chin to the sheets below, but he did not try to interrupt. As the final words left Yami’s lips, the room fell into silence, just for a second. Then the Puzzle flashed, bright, so bright it almost blinded him. The light enveloped them before vanishing as if it had never been there at all.

Yami’s body froze.

Everything blurred. The scans slid from his hands and scattered on the floor. He heard Aibou’s panicked voice, as if through a fog, felt Ishizu’s hands clutch his shoulders and settle him onto something soft. A bed. Was there a second bed in the room?

A hand touched his. Warm, smaller, soft fingers. No. This was Aibou’s bed. Aibou was calling out for him, his voice clearer by the second, like he was lifting his head out of deep water.

“… mou hitori no boku …”

“Don’t worry, I believe this is meant to happen.”

“Is he okay?!”

“The spell is beginning to take effect.”

If they spoke after that, he couldn’t tell. He distantly recognized his limbs being moved further, arranged like Aibou had arranged him that first night when he could barely sit up by himself. The world blurred and twisted, but slowly, after a minute, it began to clear.

Aibou lay beside him. He didn’t need to open his eyes to recognize the faint warmth just to his right. He couldn’t tell whether or not Ishizu had left, but he didn’t hear her voice or her breath. His ears worked perfectly, but the rest of his body felt like solid lead. He struggled to get air into his lungs, and he noticed a growing ache deep in his chest. It twinged every few seconds before settling down again. He had never felt it, never heard much about it, but even someone who had never lived past his teen years could recognize his inner systems beginning to fail.

He was dying.

His heart jumped before returning to its stuttering beat. It was silly for that thought to alarm him. He had been dead for three thousand years. He had already died, once, even if he had no memory of it. This body wasn’t even naturally born. But it had carried him on his own for weeks, had let him feel hunger and sleep and Aibou’s warm touch, and now, it was dying.

The alarm faded quickly, though. He had heard that your life flashed before your eyes before you died. But he didn’t see his life, not his forgotten one, not his new one with Aibou and the others. Instead, he saw all the things he had imagined doing, watching Aibou grow up, get married, have kids, grow old, all the adventures they would have had together as two ordinary boys.

But they had never been ordinary. And they never would be.

Or, at least, he wouldn’t.

He couldn’t remember ever feeling so tired, but all thoughts of sleep vanished when he heard the sniffling at his side. He opened his eyes and turned his head. His vision had blurred, but he could still make out the shape of the boy lying to his right.

And the glistening of tears as they rolled down his cheeks.

“… aibou?”

Aibou’s breath hitched again. And suddenly it didn’t matter that Yami’s body was dying around him, that his heart was failing, that it hurt to breathe and move and _exist._ His aibou was hurting. He rolled onto his side, so he could see Aibou’s pinched face, reach over to lay hand on his shoulder.

“Aibou?” he asked again, forcing the pain out of his voice. “What’s wrong?”

Aibou’s whole body trembled, and he shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut before finally meeting Yami’s gaze. The large, violet eyes Yami so adored had grown bloodshot, tears streaming over his cheeks.

“I don’t want you to die!” he cried, the words almost like a sob in themselves. He stared at Yami as if he were the most tragic sight he had ever laid eyes on, resting his hand over Yami’s own. “I never thought you’d have this chance, and now you _do,_ and I’m taking it away again.”

Yami’s brow furrowed, and he squeezed Aibou’s shoulder with all the strength he had left.

“You’re not taking it away. I was stealing your life from you!”

“So?” Aibou rasped, his voice breaking behind his tears. “At least I’ve _gotten_ to live. You …”

He trailed off and clutched Yami’s hand. Yami fell back against the pillow, his energy drained, but forced his eyes to remain open, stretching his arm so they could still touch.

“Aibou,” he said, with every bit of conviction, every bit of certainty, every iota of protective instinct that had only grown from the moment he awoke. “I would give up this life, I would give up my soul, my very _existence,_ if it meant I could keep you safe.”

Aibou turned his head to face him, his tears slowed, though a few still dripped onto the pillow. “Why?”

Yami wished so desperately that he had the strength to turn on his side and grab Aibou and hold him, feel his breath and his pulse and say everything words could not. But he lay there, limp, weak, barely holding himself together, and forced all those feelings into burning violet eyes.

“Because you’re _everything_ to me _._ I wouldn’t _have_ a life if you weren’t here, because you’re my whole world!”

Aibou bit his lip so hard Yami worried he might break the skin. He held Yami’s hand so tight it hurt, but Yami didn’t even think of pulling away. Aibou let out a long, trembling breath and closed his eyes, shaking his head.

“It’s not fair,” he whispered. “You shouldn’t have to … give this up. Having your own body, getting to eat and run around and take showers and pick your own clothes and just … be _alive._ ”

Yami felt his mouth curling into a smile as his eyes began to droop. “I’m not giving anything up that I’m not choosing of my own free will.”

Aibou’s eyes opened, just a bit, still gleaming with fresh tears. Yami’s smile softened.

“And I get something better in return,” he breathed. He gave Aibou’s hand another squeeze, even as he felt his muscles begin to go limp. “I’ll be with you. All the time.”

Aibou’s breath hitched, but he didn’t look away. “If it wasn’t for me … you could stay.”

“If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t _be_ here,” Yami said, like a quiet, airy laugh. His eyes drooped. “I’d be trapped in the Puzzle. Maybe forever. I’d never have known any of our friends, I’d never have known light or warmth or laughter or happiness or _anything_ about myself. I had nothing, aibou. Until you found me.”

He tried to keep his eyes open, just a second longer. But he was so tired. So tired. And it was so easy to let go.

He listened to Aibou’s breaths. They stuttered with suppressed tears, but he kept on breathing. And he would keep on breathing for a very, very long time.

Yami’s eyes closed, all the air slipping from his lungs. His chest squeezed in one final attempt to keep his heart beating. But his heart didn’t respond. A jolt of pain ran through him, pain that would have made him wince or cry out if he could have brought himself to move at all. Then it was gone, leaving his body, his mind, numb.

And he died.

For a moment, a split second, an eternity, there was nothing. No light, no warmth, no sound, no sight—just that infinite Darkness enveloping him, swallowing him whole, tugging him back down into the abyss that had restrained him for three thousand years.

Then there was everything.

There was warmth, so much he burned with it, yet somehow it didn’t hurt. He should have gone blind from the light streaming into him, through him, until he _was_ the Light, just like he had been the Light before he realized the Light was someone else. But now the Light _wasn’t_ someone else. He was the Light, and the Light was him.

Aibou. Aibou was the Light.

And he was Aibou.

He heard his voice, whispering in his head, felt everything he felt, untampered by the link. Those were _his_ feelings, what he felt Aibou felt and what Aibou felt he felt again. All as one. One. They were the same, every part of them connected as they rested in the strange, far-too-familiar feeling of _whole._ Complete, like pieces of a Puzzle slid together. All his love for Aibou, all Aibou’s love for him, melding together until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Resting in perfection, bliss that could have lasted an eternity.

And just as quickly as it began, it ended.

Yami opened his eyes and found himself standing in the muted light of his soul room. Right near the entrance, surrounded by an infinite maze, though his eyes locked on the door leading out into the hall.

The hall that held the door to his Aibou’s mind. The room he so rarely entered, though he knew he would always be welcome.

He let out a breath that wasn’t a breath from lungs that no longer existed. He looked down at his body—his skin pale once again, his chosen clothes instead reflecting Aibou’s favorite school uniform, nothing more than a mental projection of the body he borrowed, for his own was long dead.

On reflex, his mind reached out, connecting, grasping, and in only seconds he found the familiar warmth of Aibou reaching back. Emotions trickled over the link, grief, confusion, anxiety, and so much love.

_Mou hitori no boku?_

Yami closed his eyes and felt a smile curl his cheeks, tension slipping from imagined muscles.

_Yes, aibou. I’m here._

He was home.

 

*

 

He was still asleep—or resting, he couldn’t really sleep anymore—when they disposed of his body.

Granted, it wasn’t a body anymore, at least from what Aibou had told him. A while after he died, his body began to dissolve, fall apart, _crumble,_ as if the glue that had held his atoms together had disappeared. Aibou insisted it wasn’t nearly as disturbing as it sounded—though he was still glad none of their friends had been around to see it.

It had never been the same kind of body everyone else had. It had never been born, and maybe it would never have grown. It was pulled together by some strange form of magic, and that magic had gone.

Aibou had been discharged from the hospital once everyone had attested, and he had proven, that he was completely healthy. Though he didn’t know how, Yami could feel Aibou cradling the Puzzle the whole walk home, squeezing it between warm, thin fingers. It wasn’t the same as real touch. Not even close. But he appreciated it nonetheless.

The Ishtars went home that afternoon. Yami listened to Aibou thank them for all their help and apologize for taking them away from their work, their lives, but each of them insisted that they were happy to do what they could. Just before she left, when Aibou’s attention was elsewhere, Yami heard Ishizu tell Anzu to call her when they planned the trip to Egypt, and she and her family would be glad to be their guides.

Yami reminded himself to thank her for not saying it when Aibou could hear.

Their friends stayed with them through dinner. Yami remained in the Puzzle most of the time, but always kept one eye open to watch over the world outside. He listened to Jounouchi-kun’s, Honda-kun’s and Anzu’s many attempts to draw Aibou out of his quiet state, but time and time again, Aibou just gave them a small, sad smile and told them he would be fine. He just needed time.

Time. That was what everything kept coming down to, wasn’t it?

Yami manifested for a moment over Aibou’s shoulder to watch the three of them leave after the sun had set. They waved to him until they turned the corner and disappeared from sight, and Aibou waved back, always so friendly, so kind no matter what was going on in his own head. Yami faded away before Aibou could see him.

The house had gone quiet, the room was dark, and Aibou had already gotten ready for bed, when Yami heard the sobs.

He couldn’t _hear_ them, really. He knew they were just in his imagination. If they were real sobs echoing over from the real world, they would have sounded different. But the imagined sounds sprouted from the feelings streaming into the Puzzle, despite how hard Aibou tried to hold them back.

It had been weeks since they had been connected like this. It would take him both some time to learn to build their barriers again.

A part of Yami wished they could just leave them down for good.

He closed his eyes and willed himself out of the Puzzle, and when he opened his eyes, he was looking down at Aibou as he sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, his face tense as he tried with all his might to hold back tears.

Yami could just make out the tears streaming down his cheeks despite his wishes, each one gleaming in the light of the moon.

“Aibou?” he breathed, and it almost felt like letting real air out of his lungs.

Aibou sniffed, wiping his eyes with his pajama sleeve.

“I’m sorry …”

Yami shook his head, even though Aibou wasn’t looking. “There’s nothing for you to apologize for.”

“Yes, there is!” Aibou cried, turning to face him with fresh tears reddening his eyes. “You’re _dead_! Because of me!”

He looked at Yami for a very long time, his panting breath the only sound in the room. Yami’s whole face softened, and he wanted so badly to place a hand on Aibou’s shoulder.

“I was already dead, aibou,” he whispered, forcing the words right into the boy’s head. “I’ve been dead for three thousand years.”

Aibou huffed. “I know, but …”

But.

He didn’t need to finish. Yami knew. He could feel every image, every emotion, every thought pouring across the link like a clogged faucet unplugged.

No more sitting squashed together in a restaurant booth ordering the same thing. No more being mistaken for brothers or twins. No more two-player arcade games. No more curling up under a blanket on the couch to watch old horror movies or play video games or discuss whether the manga was better than the anime on TV. No more nestling together in bed after the sun had set, feeling the warmth of each other’s bodies, breathing in the familiar yet ever so slightly different scents. No more heartbeats.

No more life.

For one of them, at least.

An impulse hit him stronger than it should have, an impulse born of so many casual touches he hadn’t even tried to count them. He held back for a moment, dismissing it, but one more look at Aibou’s tear-streaked face made the choice for him.

Before he could tell himself he was being silly, Yami sat on the side of the bed and wrapped his transparent arms around Aibou’s solid body.

It wasn’t the same. He knew it wouldn’t be, but it struck him like a slap that it _wasn’t._ That it never would be again. But he stayed there anyway, positioning himself just right so that he could pretend it was like before. So that Aibou could pretend, just for a while.

Aibou didn’t move. He didn’t hug him back, perhaps because he didn’t dare risk it. But he didn’t pull away, didn’t tug straight through Yami’s arms, and that was good enough. Yami could see him there, hear his breathing. And he could almost imagine feeling his hair against his cheek, the warmth of his body pressed close, and smelling the unique scent he had memorized over the past three weeks.

“Do you miss it?” Yami murmured, his voice like a breath, even though he could no longer breathe. “Being able to … touch.”

Aibou closed his eyes, barely able to keep his balance without someone to hold him up as he leaned against thin air. “Yes.”

Yami looked down at the top of his head, at the spikes of his hair that probably would have poked into his cheek if his cheek had been solid.

“Me too.” He tightened his incorporeal arms around Aibou’s body, and he swore the boy could feel it. “But I like this better.”

Aibou blinked and looked up, his breath hitching in his throat, his violet eyes wide and bloodshot. “What?”

“This.” Yami focused on the rush of emotions streaming across the link between their souls, and pushed back some of his own. “I could touch you if I had my own body. But … it wouldn’t be like this. Maybe I can’t put a hand on your shoulder, or hug you, but … I know your thoughts, your feelings. _You._ No two people in separate bodies could ever be as close as this. And I wouldn’t trade this, I wouldn’t trade _you,_ for anything.”

And it was true.

But wasn’t he planning to do just that? Trading Aibou for his lost memories, for a chance to pass on to the next life some part of him had yearned for since before he could remember?

If he had thought Aibou wouldn’t be okay, if he had thought for a _second_ that Aibou would be hurt anymore so that he could remember his past, he would have given up that idea in a second. He would _not_ watch Aibou suffer for his sake again, not like with Malik, or Rafael. But if it just meant him leaving, being where he was surely meant to be, and letting Aibou step into the spotlight he so deserved?

Was that what he wanted to do?

Was anything worth saying goodbye to the most precious person in his life?

Aibou pressed closer to him in lieu of a response, and even though he couldn’t feel it, he _knew_ it. If he pressed much closer, he would just fall through and onto the bed, but he didn’t. For a moment, Yami wished more than anything that he could stroke a hand through his hair, kiss the top of his head, squeeze him tight.

Instead, he closed his eyes and conjured up every happy memory the two of them had shared. Yami teasing Aibou over Anzu, the smiles they exchanged after they had brought their friends back from Pegasus and Malik and Dartz, the quiet nights spent in Aibou’s room, working on their deck, talking about school or their friends, or just sitting there, enjoying one another’s company.

Every time Aibou had gone out with their friends and made sure to acknowledge him, to draw him into the circle, even if no one else could see him standing there.

He sent all that happiness along the link between them, and in seconds, Aibou’s tears had stopped, the happiness that overflowed from Yami filling him to the brim. A tiny smile twitched onto his lips, and Yami smiled back with soft, adoring eyes.

When, ten minutes later, Aibou’s exhaustion got the better of him and he fell right through Yami onto the bed, both of them stared, blinked, and burst out laughing.

It wasn’t the same. It would never be the same again.

But what they had instead was everything Yami could have wished for.

 

*

 

He hadn’t expected it to give him that much time.

He had also expected it to be a lot more fruitful.

Granted, he already knew the spirit of the Puzzle was deeply attached to his host, and would at least partially enjoy getting his own body, given how much he seemed to enjoy those everyday human activities. But with all that the other Yuugi sprouted about destiny and responsibility and “doing the right thing,” he would have thought he would try a little harder to break the spell. Then again, he had done several weeks of work in a matter of days—well, Ishizu Ishtar had, while the other Yuugi moped—once he realized his host was in danger.

That could be good motivation, actually. The other Yuugi seemed willing to do just about anything to protect those friends of his, and likely would have given away his soul in a second if it meant saving his host. He really didn’t have a good sense of priorities.

Bakura understood making sure your host _survived,_ of course. A bodiless spirit couldn’t do much of anything by itself. But the other Yuugi was far too concerned with keeping his _happy._

Even after three weeks, Bakura had never quite figured out whether the other Yuugi had stayed in his body so long for himself or for his host. Living in the Puzzle didn’t let him read his mind, after all. Besides, he had spent most of the time he had without the other Yuugi around to bother him poking his head through various doors and trying to find clues, something that would give him an extra advantage in the game to come, even though he doubted he could actually find the true soul room hidden within.

He had found nothing. Three weeks, and he had just as little information as when he started. He had spent a full two weeks selecting a spell to use to get the other Yuugi out of the way and he had cast it at the perfect moment, all without the other Yuugi noticing his presence, to no avail. All that had come of it was two overly-sappy spiky-haired teenagers crying over each other and a lot of wasted effort.

He rolled his eyes and huffed through his nose.

Well. He was annoyed, and perhaps a little disappointed, but it was fine. It had just been a backup plan, after all. One more opportunity for him to learn a bit more before the final step. But he didn’t need it. He already had everything he _really_ needed. And if nothing else, it had been more than slightly amusing to watch the pharaoh and his vessel actually believe they had a chance at that normal life they so desired, only to rip it out from under him. After so long waiting around in the Puzzle, a bit of entertainment was more than welcome.

Bakura put his hands behind his head and leaned back against the stone walls of the Puzzle, staring out at the maze around him. He smirked.

Soon, Yuugi and his friends would plan that trip to Egypt. Soon he would catch his runaway host—not that Bakura had really been trying until now—and he would get a half-decent body back. Soon he would steal back the Millennium Ring, then approach Kaiba Seto and give him the Eye. After that, all that was left was to go to Egypt himself and follow the other Yuugi down into the past.

It wouldn’t be long now. All he had to do was wait.


	11. Chapter 11

Yuugi felt sick, and he didn’t think it had anything to do with the faint motion of the ship.

Honestly, he didn’t know why he had volunteered to assemble his deck first. Maybe he thought it would get his mind off things, but now all he wanted to do was curl up in his soul room, stare at the wall, and forget the monumental task looming over him.

He doubted it would help.

Even though he had had hours to think about it, he still hadn’t come to terms with his other self having a name, an identity, a past, other than “nameless pharaoh.” Yuugi still had trouble picturing the spirit who had lived in his head for more than a year in a linen tunic, adorned in more gold than Yuugi had ever seen one person wear in his entire life, complete with a cape and a crown.

It explained the earrings, though. After seeing the hunks of gold hanging from his other self’s ears in the memory world, the hoops he had proudly worn over his last week in his own body seemed downright subtle.

And his tendency to hang his school jacket over his shoulders and let it flap around in the wind no longer seemed quite so silly.

It had all happened so fast. So many near-misses, so many things that had almost gone wrong, so many joys and triumphs … but one in particular stuck out in Yuugi’s mind.

The moment his other self had fallen from that horse, passing out before he hit the ground.

Yuugi had never run faster in his life. It hurt when he dropped to his knees, but he didn’t care, wrapping an arm around his other self and holding him up, cradling him and calling his name.

It only clicked after more than ten seconds had passed.

He could _feel_ him.

Warm. Alive. _Solid._ He put a hand on his bare shoulder, felt the bronze skin so much rougher than it had been weeks before. Then his other self woke, looking at him, staring at him in wonder. Wonder that he was there. Wonder that he had come. Wonder at the arm holding him up, the same wonder Yuugi felt at the body he supported.

He grabbed his other self’s hand on reflex, to reassure, to _hold._ Because that was _his_ hand. So real, so warm and alive and it was wonderful and he wanted it to last forever—

And then it was over.

They had stolen whatever brief touches they could manage during their time there. But none lasted long.

Then they were back in one body. The world was safe. The past was far gone. And once again, their minds were connected. Once again, they couldn’t touch.

And they would never touch again.

Yuugi stared at the cards in front of him, tried to focus on choosing the ones that would best work against his other self. Tried to think of the techniques his other self might use, the monsters, the strategies. But every time he drew his thoughts back, they flew away again. At last, he pushed the cards further onto the desk, not caring when it messed up the neat piles he had made, then stood and walked to the middle of the room.

He sighed, and he knew he wasn’t the only one to hear it.

“You can come out, if you want,” he said in a tone that somehow mixed defeat and relief. He licked his lips. “I … I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

He felt the presence manifest to his right without turning to see. “Aibou?”

Yuugi swallowed the uncomfortable lump in his throat, shaking his head.

“I … I’ll do it, I promise, I’m not backing out, I just … I need a minute.”

It sounded weak even to him, and he had never been able to fool his other self. It had been a long time since he had even wanted to.

He heard a sigh.

“I think you need more than a minute, aibou.” Yuugi forced himself not to flinch when a transparent hand settled on his shoulder. He couldn’t feel it, and he _knew_ he couldn’t feel it, but he swore it was just a bit warmer than it had been a second before. Another sigh. “We both do.”

The lump was back. Suddenly, looking at his cards felt like looking at chocolate cake when he was nauseous, and he jerked his gaze away, settling it on the wall across the room. The hand on his shoulder did not go away.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

Yuugi huffed a humorless laugh, still not turning his head. “Are my thoughts that loud?”

He swore, he _swore,_ he felt that hand squeeze. It made him want to cry.

“They don’t need to be.”

Yuugi closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and told himself he was brave, even though he was anything but. Then he turned around and smiled at his other self, the same soft smile he gave when everything was definitely not alright, but he was ready to pretend it would be. “All over my face, then?”

“I already knew you’d be thinking it,” his other self replied. He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes held that soft look reserved only for Yuugi. “I’m thinking the same thing.”

Yuugi wrung his hands and looked down. “I’m not sure we are.”

“I am.”

After a moment, Yuugi found the strength to meet his eyes again, and for the first time since they had left the memory world, he could see Atem, the sixteen-year-old pharaoh thrown into the midst of a war and forced to sacrifice his soul to save the country he loved. Atem, who looked at Yuugi with just as much adoration as the “other Yuugi” always had.

“I know my duty is to seal away the Millennium Items for good, so their power can never be used to hurt anyone again,” he went on. The mask of confidence melted a bit, and this time he was the one to break their gaze. “But … the worst evil is already defeated. If the Items were kept safe, if we could keep them safe for however long we liked …”

He didn’t finish. Even though he had let nothing trickle over the link, he didn’t need to.

Yuugi’s eyes grew so wide he probably looked like a bad cartoon.

“Are you thinking …?”

His other self looked back to him, staring at him as if he were the only thing left in the world, before facing the floor again.

“I didn’t know what my past was like before. Who I knew. My family. My friends.” His brow creased, and his face looked so incredibly young it made Yuugi’s chest ache. “I didn’t know how much I loved them. Though I suppose I did know, deep down.”

And there it was. Not that Yuugi had doubted it for more than a second. He had accepted what had to happen in the earliest parts of Battle City, had accepted that if this was what his other self wanted, he would help him achieve it. And no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much it felt like some essential part of him was being ripped away, he wouldn’t back down.

He forced a smile and ignored the burning behind his eyes.

“You see? It’s not a hard choice. You … you were afraid people wouldn’t love you. That you’d just be a king, without friends, but you weren’t—aren’t. You have all those people that l-love you … all those people who are waiting for you. I know you must want to see them again.”

His other self stiffened. “Yes. I do.”

With all the willpower he possessed, Yuugi kept smiling. He should be happy, really. His other self had so many people who would and _had_ sacrificed so much for him. He deserved that. He deserved everything.

“But it’s not that simple, aibou.”

Yuugi’s smiled slipped, and his train of thought came to a halting stop. He blinked.

“Hm?”

His other self turned to stare out the window at the Nile below them, the rush of the river he must have so many memories of now. The river that had fed his home.

“The afterlife has my parents … Mana, Mahaad, Shimon, Set, Isis, all my priests … everyone who I spent my first life with …” he said, as if to himself. Then he turned and looked at Yuugi, eyes pained. “But it would still be empty.”

“Empty?”

“Yes.” He sat down in a nearby chair, and Yuugi repressed a grin at that old habit. Somehow he had never fallen through one, or the floor, or the wall, even though he had no body. He sat with such casual dignity, one leg crossed over the other, that in that moment it wasn’t hard to believe he had been a king. He sighed. “The afterlife doesn’t have Anzu or Jounouchi-kun or Honda-kun … or Kaiba, not _this_ Kaiba, or Mokuba or Bakura or Otogi or Jii-chan …”

His gaze shifted back to Yuugi, then softened.

“And it doesn’t have what is most important to me.”

Yuugi tried and failed to swallow the lump in his throat. Even now, his other self looked at him as if he were an invaluable treasure, as if he would have traded all the power, all the riches, from his time as pharaoh if it meant making Yuugi just a little happier. Yuugi bit his lip, and his other self looked toward the ceiling.

“Even to my friends and family, I was like a god. I told Mahaad I hoped we could all live as equals one day, but … it never happened. And I don’t know if the afterlife would be different. Perhaps it would, but if it’s anything like I was told, I would still be a pharaoh, still be like a god in that world. No one even called me by my name. I was never just … Atem.”

And in a second, the king was gone. And in his place, was a sixteen-year-old boy who had had the world dropped on his shoulders with no idea what he was getting himself into, and had carried it without complaint. Carried it to his death, then for three thousand years of cold and dark and solitude, and in all that time, had never been given the chance to just be what he was: a kid.

Except once.

And he had given that up, too.

His other self sighed again and shook his head.

“Here … I have friends who don’t worship me. I have a normal life, or at least _more_ normal.” He looked back to Yuugi, and his eyes burned with such deep affection, such adoration Yuugi couldn’t have looked away if he wanted to. “Here I have my aibou … the person I love more than anything, the one closer to me than anyone in either of my lives ever could have been.”

Yuugi swallowed and clenched his fingers to keep himself standing tall. His other self’s eyes softened further, a tiny, sad smile curling his lips.

“I love my old family and friends, aibou … but I love you all, too.”

“Mou hitori no boku …” Yuugi breathed, taking a step toward him, arms twitching to wrap him in a hug. Maybe it wouldn’t do any good. He didn’t care.

But he stopped when his other self looked down at his hands, laid in his lap rather than on the arms of the chair.

“It seemed so obvious,” he murmured. “I got my memories, so it was time to move on. But … for so long, aibou, I had forgotten I ever had another option. I forgot … that I had a place here. With you.”

Yuugi barely held himself back when his other self met his eyes again. He would just fall face-first in a chair if he ran forward now, but that didn’t _matter._ But his other self wasn’t done, and Yuugi couldn’t bring himself to interrupt him.

“But you proved that to me,” he went on, brow tilted up, eyes so young, so vulnerable. “When I had my own body, and every day before and after that. You proved that I was welcome. Loved.”

His lips curled into the tiniest of smiles.

“And I love it here. I love being your other self, no matter what I am to everyone else. I love staying up all night to refine our deck and laughing at bad TV shows and Jounouchi-kun snorting milk out his nose and feeding those stupid birds with Anzu and …”

He clenched his hands into fists, gritting his teeth as if to keep himself from rambling on. Yuugi would have gladly listened to him ramble for hours. But instead, his other self looked at him again in full, so gentle, so familiar, _god,_ could he really live never seeing that face again?

“When you said that we might be … two parts of the same soul. That maybe that was why we needed each other so badly. Why we’re so similar, yet so different,” his other self said at last. “All the time in my memories, I felt like I wasn’t the person my friends and family knew. Not all the way. Maybe that was just because it’s been so long, because I’ve changed so much from living in this time. But … it doesn’t matter whether it’s true or not. Even if I can live without you, aibou … I don’t know that it would be living. Whatever ‘living’ means for a dead person.”

And that was it. Yuugi couldn’t just stay still. With fast, deliberate movements, he stepped forward, bent down, and wrapped his arms around the empty air that contained his other self.

He couldn’t feel his response. He couldn’t feel if a pair of transparent arms wrapped around him in return. But he felt a rush of warmth and affection flow through him, and he knew only some of those feelings were his own.

It could have been a minute or an hour later when he stepped back, blinking away the wetness in his eyes. He swallowed and looked down at his other self, only to look back up, finding him standing once again.

Yuugi shook his head. “You’ve waited so long.”

“I know,” his other self replied.

Yuugi bit the inside of his lip.

“Wouldn’t you miss them? Now that you know them?”

His other self didn’t even hesitate. “I’m sure I would.”

It almost hurt for Yuugi to swallow again, dropping his gaze to his feet.

“So …”

He didn’t finish. He wasn’t even sure he had anything else to say. Just like before, his other self lifted a hand and rested it on his shoulder, and this time, Yuugi swore he felt it. Solid, real, with skin and bones and pulsing blood. He shivered.

“What do _you_ want, aibou?” his other self asked, in that gentle voice that matched his gentle eyes, the one he almost never used with anyone else.

Yuugi pressed his lips together and forced back every gut response, every cry that bounced around like tennis balls in his head.

“I want you to be happy, mou hitori no boku,” he said, barely above a whisper, but with all the conviction he felt. He looked up. “Whatever that means. I don’t want you to stay just for my sake.”

It shouldn’t have been possible for those eyes to get any softer.

“There would be no ‘just’ about staying for your sake, aibou. Your sake was all I ever needed.”

Yuugi let out his breath in something between a trembling sigh and a sob. He shook his head, again and again, as if it might shake all of his thoughts out of his head.

“You’ve come so far,” he murmured, overwhelmed, still unable to even look at the choice that stood before them. The choice he hadn’t even thought of as a choice since Battle City. Since … just a few weeks ago, standing in his room, watching his other self punch the wall. He exhaled. “It seems … like giving up, to stop right now. It’s like … surrendering a duel right before you win.”

His other self tilted his head. “You surrendered two duels right before your victory, and you’ve said you wouldn’t go back and change either of them.”

“That’s different,” Yuugi replied, more curtly than he intended.

“Is it?” his other self asked. “Are the victories already won meaningless if you realize at the last minute that you no longer want the prize at the end?”

“But you didn’t stop wanting the prize.” Yuugi drew in a deep breath, and couldn’t stop it shivering. “You can’t just … give it up.”

His other self opened his mouth, paused, then closed it again, whatever reply he had prepared dying in his throat.

Yuugi looked at him, and he—Yuugi’s other self, the spirit of the Puzzle, the nameless pharaoh, the prince of Egypt, _Pharaoh Atem_ —looked back.

Violet met violet.

And as the boat rushed along the Nile, carrying them to the final resting place of a young pharaoh who had died three thousand years before, neither of them could find anything else to say.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it. Finally ending this. For those who didn't find this story cross-posted on FanFiction.Net, you might not know that this is the re-write of an unfinished story originally posted five years ago. So ... it's been a long time coming.
> 
> Thank you so much to all of you who have read this, who have left kudos, bookmarked, and commented. It means the world. I hope you all have a fantastic new year, and I hope you enjoy the final installment of Sonzai!

It was the best duel of his entire life.

Of that, he had no doubt. And though there were plenty of challenging opponents in the world—Kaiba challenged him at least once a month, even a year later—he was sure that there would never be a duel that surpassed the one he had fought against his other self.

And he knew his other self felt the same.

Mutou Yuugi had become the most famous, respected duelist in the world, present at most major tournaments either as a competitor or to duel the winner as part of their prize. He showed up on interviews and talk shows, though he turned down most of those offers, and every game shop offered to give him new cards for free, though he insisted on paying on the rare occasion he wanted to add something to his deck. Duelists lined up for hours to get his autograph, and he stayed to sign every one, even hours after the events he attended had officially closed.

He was a celebrity, and completely ordinary, and happier than he had ever been in his life.

And Atem, the pharaoh who had spent more time sharing his body than ruling Egypt, could not have been prouder.

_Mou hitori no boku?_

Atem looked up at the ceiling of his soul room, though the voice had come from inside his own head, as it always did. He closed his eyes and felt himself manifest at Aibou’s side, glancing around to find them out of the game shop, walking through town.

“Yes, aibou?” he asked.

Aibou raised an eyebrow, wearing a slightly confused grin. “You haven’t come out all morning.”

If Atem hadn’t been so skilled in practicing dignity, he probably would have bit his lip. He looked away.

“I … wanted to give you some privacy, aibou.”

He didn’t have to look to feel Aibou’s smile tilting into a smirk.

“I’m not in school anymore, you know,” he replied. “It’s been _four months_ since graduation. Besides, it’s _Sunday._ You don’t have to hide from Takeuchi-sensei’s lecture right now.”

If Atem had had blood vessels, his entire face probably would have gone red. He stared off into the distance.

“I didn’t _hide._ I just … knew I wouldn’t benefit from it, so I stayed in the Puzzle.”

Aibou snickered. “If you knew you ‘just wouldn’t benefit from it,’ why didn’t you stay out and chat?”

“I … felt it was best to stay as far away from her wrath as possible.”

“Which is also called _hiding,_ ” Aibou countered, laughing again. Several people walking nearby gave him odd looks, but he didn’t seem to care. “She couldn’t even _see_ you!”

“That doesn’t mean she isn’t scary,” Atem said, turning back to him and crossing his arms. “I’ve told you many times, aibou. You were a truly brave being to face her every day for a year.”

Aibou just snorted and walked on.

He had suggested, before graduation, that maybe Atem should pay attention in class so he would be better prepared for when the two of them went off to university in the fall, and the rest of adult life. Atem had countered that he tended to absorb much of the knowledge Aibou possessed without even trying, so he saw no point in sitting through boring—and occasionally terrifying—lectures or watching Aibou do his homework when he could lounge about in his soul room to the same end result.

He hadn’t known that Aibou could give such an intimidating glare.

Not that Atem could really blame him. He had never been through high school at all, and he had certainly never experienced the apparently-dreaded “third year” or any of the schoolwork or university preparation it implied. So he had done his best to look sheepish and avoided bringing up school unless Aibou did it first. Even now, he usually chose safer topics.

After all, he had meant it. He _was_ more than a little impressed that Aibou had sat through classes eight hours a day, five days a week, that he had done so for years up until last April, and in just a couple of weeks, he would be on to a whole new schedule at university. That was no surprise, of course. Aibou had always impressed him. Ever since the moment he first turned from “Yuugi” and “mou hitori no ore” to _“Aibou.”_ And more than ever since that day in his tomb a year before.

Aibou had beat him. And it was the proudest moment in both of Atem’s lives.

Losing had seemed so hard before. So … unbearable. Maybe it made sense: from the beginning, the games he played would have left his host injured or dead if he lost. Later on, so many of them were shadow games, or leading up to shadow games, and losing would have been just as bad, if not far worse. Losing had been his greatest fear, and his final test to enter the afterlife had been to overcome it.

He doubted he would have been so happy, so willing, to lose against anyone else. Not that he hadn’t tried. He had given that duel everything he had, and his aibou had _still_ beat him. He had completed the ritual, opened the door to the afterlife that Atem had been searching for ever since Battle City.

And Atem didn’t walk through it.

It hadn’t been planned, and he read the shock on Aibou’s face even more clearly than on everyone else’s. But as he watched his partner duel, saw how strong he had become, imagined how amazing he would _become …_

The choice was easy.

He knew there would be consequences. The Items would have to be kept and protected, and leaving that magic to exist in the world, even though Zorc had been banished, would always come with risks. But there would have been risks anyway. All magic wouldn’t leave the world just because the Items were gone. And at least now, Aibou wouldn’t have to deal with it alone.

He watched the door close with only a bit of longing, catching glimpses of his family, his friends, as they watched him from the light. He could have sworn he saw Mana waving, smiling—maybe a little sadly, but just as wide. And just before the door shut completely, cutting him off from that world, he swore he saw her wink.

Then the Ishtars, more shocked than the rest, but accepting of his choice, helped them gather up the Items and start back toward the entrance of the tomb.

He had wondered, just for a few minutes, whether he would keep this new body. But as soon as they walked outside and the sun hit his form, he felt it vanish, return to dust for the second time, and moments later, he melted back into Aibou’s body and their minds reconnected once more.

Maybe he should have been disappointed. But he wasn’t.

Aibou apologized, once they were back on the plane, heading for Japan. But Atem insisted that there was nothing to apologize for.

His body had died three thousand years ago. Maybe it hadn’t been fair. Maybe he had died long before he should have. But he had died, and if he was going to stay here among the living, he would have to share the body of someone with a beating heart. And as long as that someone was Aibou, Atem didn’t mind one bit.

He had worried, early on, whether he was intruding. But Aibou had made it very clear, from the very first time he brought it up, that Atem was more than welcome to stay as long as he wanted. Atem wasn’t stealing his life; Yuugi was holding onto his best friend.

And Aibou took every opportunity to prove to him how welcome he was. Every time he switched places with Atem during outings with their friends, every time he made sure to get his opinion before they picked what restaurant to go to or what movie to see, every time he let Atem try every new food he could think of, every time he let Atem take control just so he could pick what outfit they would wear—and didn’t protest when he put on ten different pieces of jewelry—and every morning when he slipped on not only the Millennium Puzzle, but the cartouche with Atem’s name.

It may not have been his first home. But it was home, and it was a life he had never gotten to live as prince or as pharaoh.

They could always go back to the tomb, open the door again. And someday, they had agreed, they would. They didn’t know when. Maybe in twenty years, maybe in fifty or sixty. They didn’t know how it would work, if they would have to duel again, but regardless, Atem was sure Aibou could beat him a second time. He had only gotten better since the Ceremonial Duel, enjoying tournaments without any major stakes for the first time in his life, practicing with Jounouchi-kun and Mai—when she visited—and even Atem from time to time. By the time Atem was ready to pass on, Aibou would probably be able to beat him in half the time.

For now, though, he was content. He was _happy._ He was with his friends, he was with his aibou.

And speaking of that …

He looked around at the part of town they were in. He recognized it, vaguely, but there was nothing of particular interest around here. No game or card shops, no good restaurants. Not even any of their friends’ apartments. It had been more than ten minutes since he came out of the Puzzle, and they still hadn’t arrived. If they were walking rather than taking the bus, it couldn’t be _too_ far away, could it?

“Where are we going, aibou?” he asked.

Aibou tensed. He avoided Atem’s gaze with practiced skill, though he couldn’t quite hide the faint pink on his cheeks.

“Oh, nowhere, really. I just thought we should get out of the house, look around a bit. We don’t do that that often.”

“We do that all the time. Except we’re usually with our friends,” Atem replied. “Are we meeting any of them?”

“No, they’re all busy today.”

Atem raised an eyebrow. “All of them? On a Sunday?”

Aibou still wouldn’t look at him. He nodded, a little too stiffly for Atem to believe him.

“Yeah, I checked. They already had plans. So it’s just you and me.” At this, Aibou bit his lip and risked a glance in Atem’s direction, though he didn’t meet his eyes for longer than a second. “Are you disappointed?”

“Never,” Atem said, without a hint of hesitation, everlasting fondness leaking out into his voice. His brow furrowed. “But I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Aibou’s walk looked more like a robot’s than a human’s, his expression of fake innocence so obvious Atem would have laughed, if he wasn’t slightly concerned.

“Huh?” Aibou asked, eyes ahead, voice cracking. “What are you talking about, mou hitori no boku?”

Aibou had tried, really tried, to call him Atem, and he managed it from time to time. But while all his friends had finally made the transition to using his real name—not counting the occasional slip-up—Aibou still stuck to the nickname he had grown so used to. Atem didn’t mind. He was just as happy being “mou hitori no boku” as he was “Atem.” Coming from Aibou, he rather preferred the first.

And there had never been a question of him calling Yuugi anything other than “Aibou.”

He had an identity now. A name, a person he used to be. But he didn’t feel quite like Atem, just like he didn’t feel like the “other Yuugi.” The original Atem had died at sixteen years old, knowing only his country and life as a prince and a pharaoh. But _this_ Atem had lived several years in modern day Japan. He had new friends. He had a man who called him his second grandson, a man who Atem still thought of as “Jii-chan.” He played arcade games and avoided school and helped Aibou plan for university and played Duel Monsters with cards and holograms rather than monsters summoned from his soul, and spent hours and hours just talking with the boy who had become as much a part of him as himself.

Even if it wasn’t where he was born, it wasn’t hard at all to think of it as home.

He missed his old family and friends, sometimes. He supposed he always would. There were times, usually in the middle of the night when Aibou was asleep, when he yearned for the afterlife, yearned for that eternal rest, yearned for peace and closure and the people who had known and loved him in his first life.

Then he looked down at the boy sleeping nearby, spiked hair bent out of shape by the pillow, a bit of drool hanging off his lip, and all those desires faded away.

His loved ones were still there, and they would be there until he decided he was ready to move on. But he only had one chance to see Aibou grow up, get older, and make him prouder than he ever imagined he could be, and he wasn’t going to miss it for anything in this world or the next.

And Mana, his closest friend from his first life, had given him her blessing.

He hadn’t realized what that wink meant for more than a week after they returned to Japan.

He and Aibou had gone back to their normal life, or the closest to normal either of them had had in a while. Aibou went back to school, and Atem spent most of his time in the Puzzle, exploring the much smaller range of corridors, doors that opened without traps, doors that led to rooms that represented his past. He talked to Aibou whenever he wasn’t in class or with their friends, but mostly he rested, still worn out from all he had learned and all he had done.

Then, one night, a knock sounded at his door.

Atem hadn’t expected it, but he raced to answer nonetheless, almost throwing the door open in his enthusiasm to welcome his aibou into his soul room: his _real_ soul room. He ran back inside almost faster than Aibou could keep up, and if Aibou had come to talk to him about something—he hadn’t been worried, Atem would have felt it—he apparently forgot as Atem began his tour. He explained each item, each carving on the wall, the stories of the gods and ancient kings his father had told him about as a child. The carvings of his own life, of him and Mana and Mahaad playing together as children, sneaking dates and honey up to his room after dinner, slipping out of the palace in disguise to play games with the villagers, the day he became pharaoh, the day he locked his soul away.

And mixed in with the carvings of his first life were scenes from his second, in the same colors and style. Duelist Kingdom, winning against Pegasus and high-fiving his aibou after their first shared victory. Aibou refusing to leave the burning building before he’d finished the Puzzle. The duels of Battle City, fighting against Noa, their reunion after Dartz had been defeated, laughter at the KC Grand Prix.

The brief weeks he had spent alive again. Alive, after he had been dead for three thousand years.

Atem doubted any other pharaoh had ever been granted an honor like that.

The two of them paused in front of the final carving, the depiction of their duel, and the moment Aibou had beaten him. Atem still smiled every time he looked at it, and he smiled even wider now, turning to Aibou with pride gleaming in his eyes.

Aibou laughed, and on some reflex built up from dozens of experiences with his friends, he stepped forward and threw his arms around Atem in a hug.

And Atem felt it.

Not just the pressure of another being existing in close contact. Not just another soul bumping into him. He _felt_ him. His warmth, his pulse, the blood rushing beneath his skin.

Aibou froze, looking up to meet his eyes while not daring to let go.

Atem knew. He knew from the emotions now racing along the link, and from the growing glow in those wide violet eyes.

He felt it, too.

Atem swore he could hear Mana’s gleeful laugh echoing all the way from the afterlife. He had no idea how she had managed it, but he knew he would owe her about a hundred favors once he finally passed on. He didn’t have much time to think about it, though. As soon as the shock began to fade, Aibou laughed again, shier, tears gleaming in the corners of his eyes, and hugged him again, tight enough to break his ribs if he had actually had any.

They didn’t meet in their soul rooms every day. Often, they were content with talking and teasing and laughing as they always had.

But Atem always felt his chest warm when Aibou showed up at his door just after he went to bed, dragging him by the hand into his room to play a board games or talk or play-wrestle or just sit with their arms wrapped around each other, as close as two souls could possibly be.

If Ishizu had been right, if he and Aibou had once been two parts of the same soul, he would probably never know. Perhaps in the afterlife, but certainly not before. Even if they had once been one and the same, they weren’t any longer. They had learned and grown from one another, filling in the empty spaces, and now those spaces would be filled whether they were together or not. He was his own person—he was the only Atem, just as Aibou was the one and only Mutou Yuugi.

But they were still one another’s “other selves,” and Atem was just as happy to share his identity with Aibou as Aibou had always been to share his identity, his family and friends, his _life,_ with him.

Atem looked up again, and found that Aibou had apparently finished his walk. The game shop stood only ten meters away. Atem crossed his arms and hovered as Aibou picked up his pace just a bit, as if excited.

Strange. Atem didn’t _think_ they had anything special planned for today. But he could have been wrong, or Aibou might just be hungry, so he shrugged it off without a word.

The bell above the door jingled as Aibou stepped inside, and Atem furrowed his brow. The shop was dark. But it was only the middle of the afternoon, and Jii-chan didn’t usually close up this early even on a Sunday. He remained alert while Aibou slipped behind the front desk and back into the rest of the house. Rather than climb up the stairs to his room, as Atem expected, he headed toward the kitchen.

It was still dark. Why was it so dark? Had Jii-chan closed the blinds? And why didn’t Aibou seem the least bit confused? Every one of Atem’s mental alarms was going off, and when Aibou stepped into the kitchen doorway only to find it just as dark as the rest of the house, Atem opened his mouth to tell him they needed to leave.

But before he could speak, the Puzzle flashed, and Atem found himself thrust into Aibou’s body.

He blinked. His eyebrows creased even deeper. He turned to search for the transparent figure at his side as he struggled to adjust to the sudden, unexpected switch. “Aibou, what are you—”

“Happy birthday, Atem!”

Atem jolted back, hands up in defense, as the lights flicked on.

And there were his friends. Jounouchi-kun, Anzu, Honda-kun. Jii-chan, and Bakura and Otogi and even Mokuba. All of them beaming and laughing as they formed a half-circle around the table, where a cake, decorated in bright yellow icing and crowded with candles shaped like Duel Monsters, sat in front of a pile of wrapped gifts. The whole kitchen, now that he had the mind to look, had been decorated with balloons and streamers, little bits of confetti strewn over the counters and the floor. Like Aibou’s birthday almost two months before.

He couldn’t get his tongue to work. His throat had closed up, but his mouth hung open, his eyes so wide they almost hurt. He looked back and forth between everyone in the room, all the smiling faces aimed at him.

Not Aibou. _Him._

“Wha … what?” he forced out, in a more strangled voice than he had hoped.

Anzu laughed, but there was no mistaking the slight concern in her eyes as she put one hand on her hip and quirked her head. “What, don’t tell me you forgot your own birthday?”

Atem blinked. Then he blinked again, looking around, soaking it in, trying to get his frozen brain to comprehend.

“C’mon, say something, man!” Jounouchi-kun called, waving a hand in front of his face. “We spent _way_ too much time working on this for you to just stand there staring. There’s cake and presents and decorations and _cake_!”

“I hope we picked the right kind,” Anzu added, her smile a bit uncertain. “Yuugi said he thought this was your favorite, but we didn’t want to ask you and spoil the surprise.”

Atem let out a long, shaky breath. “You all planned this? For me?”

Jounouchi-kun and Honda-kun exchanged confused looks, Bakura fidgeted, Mokuba raised an eyebrow, but Anzu’s eyes remained on him, softer than he had seen them in almost a year.

“Of course. After all, you … you haven’t had a proper birthday in three thousand years. And now that we know when your birthday is … we thought it was time to make up for that.”

Her lips curled up again, a fond chuckle slipping out. She shrugged.

“Well. Yuugi did. We just helped after he suggested it.”

Atem straightened. “Aibou?”

For the first time since everyone had jumped out and shocked him half to his second death, he felt Aibou fidgeting—or the spiritual equivalent of fidgeting—in the back of his mind. But before he could say anything, Anzu started shouting at Jounouchi-kun and Honda-kun for trying to taste the icing on the cake, and in seconds, he had been drawn into the party he could still barely believe was for him.

He blew out the candles for the first time in either of his lives—because they didn’t put candles on birthday cakes in ancient Egypt. He made a wish—though there was nothing to wish for. He opened his presents, one by one, with so much reverence that Jounouchi-kun lost his patience and shouted for him to just tear the paper off like everyone else. Anzu glared. Atem laughed.

Jounouchi-kun gave him a CD, as he had discovered how much Atem loved music a few months before, while Honda-kun had managed to find a very realistic figurine of the Dark Magician. From Anzu, Atem got a pair of boots he had been eying in the store a month ago—he insisted that they were too expensive, but she brushed it off and said that after paying for tuition and her ticket to New York, she had a little left off for splurging. Bakura gave him a miniature tabletop game, which he claimed to have gotten the idea for after Otogi showed him his gift: the latest travel-size version of Dungeon Dice Monsters. Mokuba insisted that his gift was from Kaiba as well, even if Kaiba refused to sign the tag, and Atem believed it when he opened the small box to find several first-edition, very rare Duel Monsters cards. Atem felt his eyes sting a bit when he opened Jii-chan’s gift and found not only a new board game, but two Sudoku books.

He had given Aibou two Sudoku books for his birthday since he was ten. Atem had to look away for a moment when Jii-chan said that Atem was part of the family, so it was his tradition now, too.

Atem stared at the last gift for a very long time. Everyone in the room smiled, almost smirking, until Atem turned over the tag to find “From: Aibou” in familiar handwriting on the other side.

Inside was a photo album. Tall, wide and thick, and overflowing with photos of tournaments and special outings and ordinary days, of Aibou, their friends, and Atem.

He allowed one tear, just one, to slip down his cheek before he swallowed the rest.

Then the presents were put to the side with excessive care—these were _his_ presents, _his,_ the only thing that had been _his_ in years were the clothes and jewelry Aibou bought him last year, and Atem still considered them shared. Jii-chan cut the cake, pushing the first slice to Atem before handing out the rest. Atem had had cake several times before, but he swore, on everything he held dear, that this was the best he had ever had.

He ate it slowly, savoring each bite as he watched Jounouchi-kun and Honda-kun fight over who had the bigger piece, while Mokuba made sure that his slice had extra icing, and everyone else just laughed and chatted and enjoyed the party. It was so simple. It was so ordinary.

And it was for him.

“Do you like it?”

Atem was not the least bit surprised to turn his head and see Aibou’s transparent form projected at his side. Even though he had grown and looked more like a teenager now than the child he had once resembled, his large eyes still gleamed with excitement, hope, and anticipation.

And Atem felt his own eyes soften with every second their gazes met. “Thank you, aibou,” he murmured, out loud, even though he just as easily could have used the link. Everyone else was far too distracted—and loud—to hear him, and he wanted to make sure Aibou heard just how much he meant it.

Aibou beamed, his cheeks tinged with pink.

“Anything you think could be better?”

“How could you do better than this?” Atem asked, almost laughing at the thought as he glanced over at one of the most welcome, astounding sights he had come across in all his life.

Aibou shrugged.

“Well, if you want different decorations, or a different kind of cake,” he said, his head high again, his smile wider. “I never did get to ask you, after all. And we’ve got plenty more birthdays to make sure we get things right. This is only your eighteenth.”

He winked, and suddenly it clicked. Eighteen. Atem had died when he was sixteen. And though it wouldn’t be exact, it had been a few months more than two years since Aibou had solved the Puzzle. Eighteen years he had been fully aware and active. Eighteen years of life.

The first eighteen years of many, many to come.

Atem took another bite of cake, memorized the texture and the taste, then swallowed.

“Yes,” he said at last, smiling at his friends as they bickered and laughed, and at his Aibou, right by his side, grinning back at him. “We have plenty more to go.”


End file.
